


Up The Mountain

by ceria



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Anachronisms ahoy, Bonds (human & animal but not human/animal or human/human), Clint swears a lot, Clint's time in the circus was awful, Crying!Phil, Distress over past torture, F/M, Farm animals (and HYDRA soldiers!) mentioned as food, I Believe in Jasper Sitwell, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Bobbi Morse, Minor Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse, Past Torture, Ward is an obsessive creeper, gryphons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8771122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceria/pseuds/ceria
Summary: The war ended. HYDRA won. Clint retired. He bought a farm, grows his own food, and owns a few animals. It's a nice, quiet life until an amnesiac SHIELD officer turns up and changes all of that.Things settle once more. Then a little baby gryphon appears. Things aren't so settled after that.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in some nebulous timeframe, there are guns and cannons and horses for transportation, but not phones. I'm thinking the American Wild West without specifically nailing down any time period.
> 
> Thank you, Twangcat, for making time. I know you've been crazy busy and I absolutely appreciate it.
> 
> This story is complete, I'll post it all within a week.

He didn't remember all four verses of the song; only the first and third, and most of the chorus, but he had the gist of the rest of it and filled in the blanks each time with something a little different. Not like the kids minded, after all, they just enjoyed the sound of Clint's singing voice. 

The sun was bright overhead and he had the weeding almost done. Just one last row before he was done with his small garden today. Not that he was done working. Mike had rolled in something terrible this morning and Clint wasn't going to bring 'im back into the barn smelling like that. Stupid cow.

Stupid or not, they were still his cows. That he milked in his barn on his paid-for-in-cash land. 

Hands on the pasture fence, Clint vaulted up to sit on the top rung, head tilted toward the sun. Month number ten. Nat had told him he wouldn't last past week sixteen. Just wait until she came back and he showed her how wrong she was.

Something moved in the distance, tilting slightly left when the wind blew the trees to the right. Diving off the fence, Clint opened the fake fencepost next to the gate and drew out a folded bow and small quiver. Time to get closer to see exactly what had wandered into his mountain retreat.

 _What_ turned out to be a man; a little bloody, too thin and breathing erratically, wearing an officer's uniform from the obliterated SHIELD military. "Hello," Clint called out, one arrow knocked but pointing at the ground. "I'm gonna guess you don't have a gun on you. What about a knife?"

The man, bright blue eyes, receding hairline, large forehead with open sores, cradled his left arm to his chest – possibly broken. He was also limping, his boots practically falling more apart as he moved.

"Hells bells," Clint muttered, moving away from the partial protection of the fence and going out to meet the stranger. "How hurt are you?" he asked.

"Help, _please_ ," he whispered, pitching forward to his hands and knees. His tattered shirt flittered in the wind. "Cougar attack?" Clint asked, looking at the marks on his back. When he shook his head no – of course that could have been tremors, Clint looked again, realizing they could be whip marks. The shoulder insignia was odd; Clint had never seen that rank before. Whatever – that wasn't important right now.

"Come on, get up, soldier. I can't leave you out here and it gets damn cold when the sun sets." Clint wrapped an arm around him, ignoring the way the man tried to flinch away. "How'd you even get up here? Did anyone come with you or follow you?"

"No," he whispered, sounding like he needed to clear his throat, or maybe let it heal for a year before trying to talk again.

"Name, soldier?"

"Phil," he whispered. 

"Good, I'd rather call you by name than 'dumbass' or 'chickenfoot.'

Phil gave him a side eye glare.

"Pfft, don't do that. You might lose an eye. Actually, you really might be in danger of that, considering your bruises. I'm pretty sure you've got bruises on top of open sores that are hiding more bruises."

Clint didn't have a horse or a mule up here; that would help transport Phil quicker to the barn. "Listen, I've gotten pretty banged up myself over the years and had to learn the hard way to get better. So don't fret too much, I've got plenty practice stitchin' and healin'. We're going straight to the barn just ahead, I've got an empty stall with a cot to put you in and then I'll get some medication into you, clean an' stitch you up."

Clint nodded his head at Phil, waiting for Phil to return the gesture that it was okay and he understood. "Any allergies?" Clint asked. Phil grunted and possibly shook his head. Clint took that for a no.

"Ok, you're going to hear a lot of shuffling around. Do NOT hurt my kids, you hear me? I've got Mikes, Davids, and Jims. Jim is the noisy bunch with all their roostering and clucking around every morning. David farts and grunts a lot. They can't help they're pigs. Mike is pretty smelly right now but he'll have to wait for a bath. I'm gonna take care of you first.

"Oh, I sleep upstairs in the open loft – just so you know I'll be around too."

Amazing how easy it was to lose track of time. It took him three tries and a dozen apologies to get the IV inserted. Phil was lucky Clint even had this – he hurt himself enough over the years to learn to keep medical supplies handy. An hour stitching up broken skin, another hour putting homemade salve on the whip marks… "Shit!" Clint muttered. "Don't move. It's almost dark and I've got to bring in Mike and David before that happens. Can’t leave them out overnight with the predators."

More time whizzed by taking care of his first priority – his farm. "I’m coming back," Clint called out, knowing better than to startle a wounded soldier – it had happened to him too many times during the war when he'd been a merc. He peeked over the stall wall. Phil was still wheezing. If he had internal damage, Clint would _never_ be able to fix that. 

Could he trust Sam enough? In all honesty, the problem wasn't trusting Sam – it was making that decision for Phil who wasn't up to that kind of choice until he could talk a little more. Hopefully he'd survive long enough to make his own choice.

His left arm wasn't broken but the scar on it… Phil seemed too dazed to understand the scar was old, not brand new. He muttered about saving someone named Marcus and asked if he'd ever be able to use his hand again.

"Phil," Clint said, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. "I think you've regressed. Maybe? I bet the last time you were hurt was when that," Clint pointed at the scar, "happened."

"Don't cut it off," Phil whined, not able to comprehend Clint's words.

Finally, desperate to calm him, Clint wrapped his left arm from elbow to fingertips in wet rags and put a hardening agent on it – he'd used it last for David – to weigh it down and calm Phil.

It helped a little.

It was the _only_ thing that helped those first days.

Clint wanted a nap. No scratch that. He wanted a solid meal and a whole night's sleep. Between Phil, Mike, Jim and David, Clint wanted to scream. 

His first thought in the morning was a reminder that people sucked; which was a tremendously terrible thought. It wasn't Phil's fault he couldn't sleep the whole night. His screams woke up Jim who all decided to try and out-noise the new human in their barn. Which woke up David who wanted to go rouse the mud and whatever insects they could find but Clint wouldn't let them out until daylight. Mike wasn't much better. Waking up meant morning which meant milking… 

Clint stumbled through two, maybe three, weeks that way, half asleep, tripping over his feet, not finding enough daylight hours to keep up the garden. Which he'd regret soon. He couldn't cook indoors – for some reason the smell of cooking meat made Phil throw up whatever broth Clint had coaxed him into eating. 

He'd taken to cooking soup outside in a huge covered pot over the fire pit. Every routine he'd established felt _broken_.

Even so, Clint knew that if he could do it again, he'd still help Phil. He wasn't the type to turn away someone in need. So he grumbled in his head and kept his complaints to himself and tried to adjust to everything changing around him.

"Where am I?"

Oh – and Clint had forgotten about that. Every day Phil would wake and ask more questions, usually a different version of the questions he'd already asked yesterday and the day before that. 

"I’m Clint, I own a farm half way up Lynette Mountain. You stumbled onto my property a few days ago."

"A few days?"

"It could be longer now, Phil. Maybe a week? It's startin' to blur on my end, okay?"

"You know my name."

" _You_ told me your name. I also know you're a SHIELD Officer but not much else."

"Are you a doctor?"

"No, but I'm trying to help you get better."

"Where's Marcus?"

"There was only you – and I don't know anyone by that name. I'm sorry."

That always made Phil stop and regather his thoughts when Clint admitted that.

 

"Did you cut my arm off?"

"Your arm is fine, I swear. It's scarred up and healing," Clint would pick up the bandaged arm and show it to Phil, "you might have limited movement but it's still there."

"Did you kill it?"

"No," Clint answered. 

"It's gone though," Phil would say and scratch his head or rub his ear with his right hand. Clint had learned the hard way to ignore that statement. It never led anywhere good. Asking for more detail led to less sleep and more screaming. 

Clint had his suspicions though. Whatever animal had scarred Phil years ago had been intelligent. Most likely hurt or trapped, and Phil hadn't ignored that. He was obviously able to bond with animals.

The fact that Phil kept saying it was gone? Well, Marcus probably had something to do with that. Probably right after it had tried to tear Phil's left forearm off.

But those thoughts Clint pushed out as quickly as possible and went back to Mike and David. Smart enough to be animals but not intelligent enough to be more. When Clint was much younger, just old enough to join a mercenary team actually, he'd promised himself that he would _never_ be around animals that could be 'more' ever again.

~*~

Clint woke to the sound of something thudding against a stall door. 

"I'm coming," he groused loud enough for his voice to carry downstairs, assuming it was Mike.

He half-dressed in wool pants and boots – he wasn't ever going into a stall barefoot, no way – and slid down the ladder.

But it wasn't Mike. Or David. 

Phil stood outside his makeshift bedroom, leaning against the wall, using a knife to break the cast on his left arm, alternating between that and thumping it against wood of the stall.

"Do you want me to help?" Clint asked, startling him. He sighed and started over, "Phil, do you know where you are?"

"Clint?" he asked, scrunching his face up in confusion.

"Yes, you're on my farm."

"Why is there a cast on my arm?"

"You hurt it pretty bad some time ago. It's scarred up something terrible. I think you were confused about how long ago it was."

"How long ago was it?"

"I don't know," Clint admitted. "But you kept asking me to not cut it off. So I wrapped it. It seemed to help."

"So I can take it off now?"

"Yep. Do you want me to help?"

When he hesitated, Clint asked, "I can get you better tools to remove it. If you're okay doing it, I'd love to make some breakfast."

"Sure," Phil said.

Clint fetched better tools to break the cast, a couple rags and a towel, and a clean set of clothes for Phil. "You've been abed for a few weeks. You might want to take it easy, but here's some stuff to get clean." He pointed to the bathroom, "The water will be cold but help yourself."

Phil wobbled across the room, Clint following him with the clothes and supplies. "Can you leave the door open, please, just in case you need help?"

"Will do," Phil said. It took him a long time but he didn't ask for help. Clint cooked breakfast and gathered the eggs, feeding Jim before Phil came out.

"Who's Marcus?" Clint asked, curious.

"My best friend," Phil answered, then frowned at his answer. 

"What?"

"Why don't you know him? Anyone who knows me knows Marcus."

"I think you've lost time," Clint said. 

"What do you mean?"

"How long ago was your arm damaged?"

"Just days," Phil said, then looked at his forearm, finally cast-free, revealing well-healed scars. "Oh."

"Yeah, that looks years old."

"What was wrong with me when you found me?"

Clint gave him a rundown of the wounds. As he expected, Phil seemed to remember none of it. "What do you think happened?" Phil asked.

"I think you were a HYDRA prisoner."

Phil frowned and Clint escaped that conversation fast, taking care of the morning chores and setting a chair outside for Phil to follow him while he finally tended the garden. 

~*~

The thing was, Clint didn't know what he should say and shouldn't. The fact that Phil seemed to block out several memories? Clint had to assume he wasn't ready to deal with them. 

So he didn't tell him that the war was over and SHIELD had lost. Phil would have to deal with that soon enough.

~*~

It was easy to forget that human conversation, talking to a person who used their own mind and voice to talk back, was really welcome. Phil didn't like to be left alone all day so even though he wasn't strong enough yet to help, he followed Clint around a lot.

"You named both cows Mike?"

"Yeah, easier to remember that way. The set of pigs are David and the chickens are all Jim."

"No matter the gender?"

"Correct," Clint said. "Any babies that come around are Junior."

"What do you do with the juniors?"

"I'm building up my winter storage for now. Eventually I might take them into town to sell them."

"I don't really want to partake in the butchering, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I got that part. It's my farm."

Clint took him around the farm, showed him the tricky spots in the fence. Mostly it was an excuse to get Phil up and moving and exercising a little. "Tricky?" Phil asked.

"Some are weak spots Mike keeps finding, some are false spots with weapons in them. It's always good to have some weapons stored around that I don't need to carry. Just in case."

"Good to be prepared," Phil agreed. "You'll show me?"

"Yeah."

~*~

Jim woke him up before the cool air did for once. All their clucking and crowing informing Clint that it was time to roll out of bed and feed them. Shivering in the cool air, he hopped around trying to get warmer while he dressed. He'd given Phil the extra blankets two nights ago when he was being all pathetic and stoic about how much the cold bothered his still-healing body.

Not like Clint slept well anymore. Two nights ago, for example. He'd heard the gryphons caterwauling for about an hour after sunset. Sometimes the wind blew just right to carry their cries down toward Clint's barn. As soon as they had stopped, Phil's nightmares had started – even worse than normal.

As every morning, Clint climbed the narrow ladder going into the steeple to overlook his land. The frost on the ground was perfect. A few rabbit tracks to the west and possibly deer tracks on the south. Rolling his shoulders to get the kinks out, Clint sighed. He still wasn't tired of the quiet. Month number fourteen.

Morning perusal done, he sat on the floor to pull his boots on, Clint rolled over, hands on the edge of the loft, and flipped down. Mike mooed as soon as he did, gently head butting Clint for attention.

"Let me feed Jim and I'll be back to milk you." Two lights were already on this morning. Phil was already in the makeshift kitchen, cutting up old vegetables and the too-ripe fruit for the Jim's. Huh – that was a first but Clint let it go without comment. Instead, he grabbed the egg container and went to collect them – the cooler weather finally slowing down their output. He brought them back and took the chicken feed to them while Phil started rinsing the eggs.

Mike was next, Clint milking her before opening up the stall to let both of them into the pasture. David next, Clint checked on all three of them. It was getting time to consider restocking his pantry but he was still hesitant to tackle that until Phil was more stable. He did not handle David's squeals well on a good day and had only started eating meat again two days ago. Restocking would _not_ be a good day.

The animals done, Clint headed back into the kitchen, Phil handing him a cup of coffee. "Thanks," Clint mumbled, surprised. Probably best not to make too big a deal out of Phil being up and moving and helpful. It was nice to have some of his morning chores done though. He would get spoiled by this too quickly. And then get used to it. Until it went back to Clint doing them all alone because that's how life worked.

"It's getting cold," Phil said. 

Clint nodded in agreement because yeah, it was. Winters were short but frigid. "I'm not really looking forward to the cold."

"You need a better roof," Phil observed, "Some pitch to fill in the gaps."

"Hard work to do on my own so I haven't yet."

"But you have the supplies. I saw them in the storage room yesterday. Want me to help? My balance is much better now, even if I'm just going up and down the ladder to hand you things."

Clint looked at the coffee, got up and wandered over to the stall where Phil usually slept. Yep, it was empty. He came back into the kitchen, pretty sure he was really awake. "You know, this is the longest conversation we've ever had." Phil didn't say another word, just raised an eyebrow at him. "You're up to working then?"

Phil nodded.

Alrighty then. Looked like they were going to work on Clint's roof today. Maybe the hard labor would help Phil sleep through the night. Clint was _really_ looking forward to the night Phil's screaming didn't wake him. At least he could tell the screams apart now without tumbling out of bed, weapons drawn, looking for invaders. 

~*~

"How come there's no one else around?" Phil asked.

It wasn't like no one knew where he lived. Clint had hired people from the town to help fix the old barn and put up the pasture fences before he'd moved onto the land. But he'd purchased this well out of the way on purpose – it was too far a walk for casual visitors. Clint didn't like visitors anyway. Too many people wanted to hire Hawkeye and Clint was permanently retired. 

Of course, he also picked this town because it was too small for any circus to waste its time. None of them toured anywhere near Lynette.

"Is the war over?" Phil asked.

Clint shook his head, "Does war ever really end? It's over for me."

"You did your time?"

"I went to war." What little Clint knew about the SHIELD officers was that half of them thought of mercenaries as a necessary evil. He wasn't going to mention being a merc if he didn't have to. 

"I picked a remote spot on purpose," Clint said and Phil let the subject of war drop again. "I said I'd come to town twice a year to re-supply."

"And if you don't?"

"One of them might remember to wander up, who knows." He had a standing arrangement to meet with Sam when he was in Lynette to check in. That had been the agreement; twice a year, once in the spring and once in the fall. Clint wasn't sure the exact date but he knew it was close to the end of autumn. Assuming Sam took that appointment sincerely, Clint needed to go soon. "Do you want to go with me in the morning?"

"A lot of people there?" Phil hedged.

"Most of the people in these mountains weren't involved in the war. It's one of the reasons I came here. I suspect there's people watching out from both sides but I don't know who. I keep to myself, buy my supplies, check in with Sam, and come back here." Clint hesitated, "There's something else to consider. If you want to leave probably best you do it before it snows."

"Am I cramping your style?" Phil teased. 

"Of course not. Listen, you never talk about the future, I don't know what your plans are beyond get stronger again."

"I haven't made any yet? Do I need to?"

"Nope," Clint said. "I've got enough food for two, you can stay until you can't for all I care."

"You're a good man, Clint Barton," Phil said.

"Not really," Clint argued, "but you're easy company."

"Except for the nightmares?" Phil asked.

"I'm learning to sleep through them," Clint lied. "Some night they aren't bad. I've heard the gryphons that live up the mountain and you're not worse than them."

"Gryphons?" Phil asked, whole body stilling.

"Never seen 'em but sometimes I hear them screeching. I figured as long as they don't bother me, I leave them alone in return."

"So you haven't seen them?"

"Nope, heard they're beautiful but that's all I want to know."

"Yeah, I've heard that too," Phil muttered.

Of course he had to make Clint eat his lying words about sleeping when Phil screamed most of the night.


	2. Chapter 2

As expected, Phil did not go into town with him. Given that he'd be a whole two days away, Clint finally gave in to figuring out who Phil was. He'd seen enough SHIELD uniforms during the war to know that Phil had been an officer. The one shoulder decoration thingy that had been clinging to his torn tunic wasn't familiar however. He'd seen a lot of Lieutenants, a couple Captains and one General during the war. The piece Clint hid in his backpack wasn't that however.

But he'd brought it with him anyway, thinking that Sam might have an idea about it. As soon as he reached the edge of town, Clint caught sight of the black and maroon uniforms. Not many – HYDRA had a presence everywhere since they won – but three loitering around was odd. 

"Hey, Jessica," Clint called out as he entered the pharmacy, the first building on his list for supplies. 

"Good to see you, Barton," she said with an easy smile, helping a young couple with their purchase. As soon as they left, she hustled to his side. 

"Is this your first stop?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"If you've got company, don't tell anyone."

"What?"

"HYDRA," she hissed. "They've been here on and off for a month with their ears to the ground. Not causin' any trouble but they're looking for someone." She put her left hand on his shoulder, emerald ring flashing, "Don't vary from your usual order."

"It's not like someone wandered _up_ the mountain, Jessica. People tend to go downhill, it's easier that way."

"Good, good," she said, shuffling away to restock. The door opened and Clint didn't need his fabled eyesight to see the black and maroon uniform. He placed his usual six-month order for medical supplies for one. 

"It'll be ready in a few hours, Clint. Stop by on your way back to the farm."

The soldier didn't wander out after him. Without Jessica's warning, Clint might not have been suspicious. Not even when he went into the general store. "Hello. What can I do for you?" Clint didn't recognize the woman.

"Name's Clint Barton, I come in twice a year, can you look up my last winter's stock order?"

"Sure. Nice to meet you, Barton. I'm Bobbi." Tall and statuesque, much like Jessica. In fact… Clint glanced at her left wrist, at the emerald bracelet, and smirked. Apparently a lot like Jess then. Rumors toward the end of the war had implied emeralds were the color of rebellion. A safe passage provided for any SHIELD soldiers who needed a place to hide on their way out of the country. 

But it was only a rumor and Clint hadn't been privy to that kind of information as a merc.

"Found it," she said, tucking a pen behind her ear. "It's a little light for six months."

"Yeah," he admitted. "I was running a little low come spring. Feel free to add a few pounds to my order if you don't mind."

"A few pounds… May I ask how you're getting everything back to your farm?"

"I'll rent a mule, wagon, and driver to go back with me."

Bobbi took a long, slow look at him, eyes mischievous, "Jess _might_ have mentioned it's worth a single trip with you, if you're wanting a one-way trip. That it was pretty good."

"Only one way, huh?" he said, grinning easily at her.

"I'm not interested in more," Bobbi said. 

"Me neither," Clint admitted. 

"Well, boy, you might as well come back 'round tonight and we can leave in the morning."

"Boy, is it?" he asked and Bobbi only laughed.

"Until you prove me wrong, yeah. _Boy_."

Clint was going to blame her blatant pickup on the fact he missed the HYDRA soldier glaring at him. He didn't miss the man following him out of the general store however.

"She deserves better than that," he snarled. Clint turned around, eyebrow raised.

"Let me guess, you tried wining and dining her and she shot you down flat? Did you get into the bedroom with her or you just dreaming about it still?"

"Be respectful," he said. And damn it, Clint couldn't resist needling him just a little more.

"Oh, I will be, soldier. _All_ night if you get my drift."

He snarled and raised a fist but Clint didn't move. Just stood there, legs parted, braced for a punch that never came.

"What's going on, soldier?" 

"Nothing, Captain," he said without turning around. 

"Neighbor?" the Captain asked, holding out his hand. "I'm Captain Rumlow, is everything all right?"

"Captain," Clint said, tipping his hat. "We're good. Just some teasing among men, nothing more."

Rumlow glanced at the general store. "What part of respecting the women around here don't you understand, Ward?"

"She deserves so much more," Ward muttered and Rumlow laughed at him.

"He thought that his one night would wow her into a real relationship," Rumlow said, drawing Ward's ire away from Clint by embarrassing him. It was a twisted way to get Clint to appreciate his interference that probably worked with most people. "Don't mind him."

Rumlow obviously had some balls of steel to not be afraid of Ward – but then he looked like he could take on a plow horse and win. Or this was an act the two of them played on a regular basis – good soldier / bad soldier so Clint would feel indebted enough to be honest with Rumlow about whatever he asked next.

"You got some time? I'll buy you a drink to apologize? Ward can pay for them."

"Thanks, man," Clint said, "but I've got a few more stops to make before the shops close up and some arrangements to clear. I can leave my animals overnight but the earlier I get back the better."

"You're the one living up on the mountain alone?" Rumlow asked.

"Yeah, that's me, Clint," he held his hand out, meeting Rumlow's gaze.

"Not too lonely?" Rumlow asked.

"Obviously must be," Ward growled but quieted when Rumlow glared at him.

Clint really wanted to make a joke about keeping his dog on a leash but let it go. Friendly and forgettable was the safest bet with HYDRA. "It's a nice relief, in all honesty. I grew up surrounded by noise and people and eventually had enough. So I come into town every few months now for some conversation that doesn't involve grunts, moos and crowing. It's been working for me."

Ward wandered off, still grumbling and Clint wasn't sure if it was an act or if Ward really was pissy about Bobbi not wanting him. Rumlow went the other way but Clint could feel a pair of eyes watching him. As much as he wanted to talk to Sam, he'd have to wait until after he went into another store or two. 

He ordered the animal feed next, making arrangements to get the bags to Bobbi's wagon. Then it was the bank to let them know he was in town and buying a few supplies and that the stores would bring their vouchers in to get paid in the next day or two. He verified the accounts and moved on.

Clothing was next. He might be average size which worked for pants but never shirts. He'd always rip out the sleeves – fine for the summer but not the winter. It gave him an excuse though to buy a few extra things for Phil along with his winter purchases though. Too bad he couldn't get Phil a real bed without making people suspicious. Instead he bought a couple more blankets to double as tarps to cover the wagon on the way back. It would have to do.

Then the barber – because Clint wanted his half a year special for his hair and beard trim. He'd shear both of them in the spring.

The last business stop was to see the Sherriff for his six-month-I'm-still-alive checkup. "Clint Barton!" Sam said, getting up to shake his hand.

"Sam Wilson," Clint drawled, letting Sam draw him in for a half hug and slap on the back.

"I was giving you two more days before I came up to check on you," Sam informed him.

"I _knew_ my fall deadline was getting close."

"Well, it's good I don't have to. You're doing okay up there?"

"The roosters wake me up every morning, the pigs snort and the cows have terrible gas. It's everything I dreamed of," Clint said with a wink. "How's the Sherriffing going?"

Sam filled him in while Clint dug into the bottom of his pack. As soon as no one was looking, he tossed Sam a piece of brown cloth, who promptly pocketed it. Sam would let him know soon enough.

"What about the gryphons?" Sam asked, "ever see any of them?"

"Not yet," Clint said. "I wish. I lost a piglet in the spring, the couple days I was down here. I assume a gryphon did that. Sometimes I hear them screeching at night but that's it. Still have yet to see the actual bird." Time for a subject change, however, Clint never liked drawing attention to the gryphons that lived in the mountains above him.

"So, a little gossip," Clint started, "is Bobbi forward with everyone?"

Sam _smiled_ , leaning back in his chair. "Everyone single, yeah. She's never gonna let a man catch her. Just don't disrespect her. I won't tolerate that."

"Oo, you've got it bad," Clint teased.

"Not Bobbi, no," Sam admitted easily enough. "She's Jessica's best friend."

"Sam and Jess…" Clint paused a moment. "I can see that."

"Heh, don't picture it too clearly, please. And I've been seeing that for five months now. She's the one, Barton."

"Congrats, Sam," Clint saluted him.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll catch you in the morning. Go get some dinner you didn't cook and have a drink for me."

"A drink of what?" Clint teased and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Perv."

"Well, why not?"

"Just wait until you fall, Barton. I won't need to explain it."

"Pfft, never happen, Wilson."

~*~

Coffee. Heaven. Manna. Whatever it was called. Clint followed his nose right down the stairs, yanking on yesterday's trousers as he went.

He expected Bobbi, sure, but not Jessica and Sam sitting around the table as well. Sam was fiddling with the small brown bag Clint had tossed him yesterday. "Clint, do you know what this is?" he whispered. Jessica looked tense, rubbing one hand against Sam's shoulders.

"Rank insignia, but not General, Captain, or Lieutenant. I saw all those during the war."

"Where the hell did you get it?"

They looked spooked. Clint took the cup of coffee from Bobbi with a nod of thanks and flipped the chair around, straddling it. "Washed up on the shore. I looked up and down river," he said, not sure why the hell he was lying about it but their reaction had him weirded out. "I figured where there was a little, there might be more. I checked both banks for tracks or more thread but didn't find anything. What is it?"

"Fury's Commander," Jessica said, "Coulson – fourth in line at SHIELD but in charge of the troops. He was the only one who wore that rank. He went missing eight months before the Red Skull Offensive."

HYDRA called it the Schmidt Maneuver, of course. But they had won and could name it whatever they wanted. Within four days HYDRA soldiers had simultaneously attacked every hidden outpost SHIELD owned and wiped them out. After five years of fighting and never finding a single one. 

"No one officer knew the location of every base," Jessica said, "and two of them went missing prior to the last battle." That part Clint had not known. 

"Two?" he asked. Pierce, Fury, Hill, Coulson, May, Bronson, and Sitwell -- they were the leaders of SHIELD.

But Sam raised his hand and shook his head, "That's enough."

"Who's not accounted for?" Clint asked. "What did they look like?"

"Why?" Bobbi asked, narrowing her eyes.

Clint rolled his in response. "In case more uniforms show up, or what if a body drops? I travel that mountain; I'll keep an eye open for something. Then I'll find a reason to come tell Sam."

Jessica gave him a quick description of each person, Bobbi even went into the study, locking the door behind her, and shuffled around a few things before bringing back six sketches – one of each leader. At least Clint knew without a doubt now that his Phil was their Coulson. Whom they thought might be a traitor.

Clint kept his mouth shut.

 

Too bad he needed help getting the supplies back to the farm. Bobbi was a great company but he hated to put Phil at risk. Still, someone random at the farm for a day versus owning horses… he'd rather chance the person. She packed them a lunch and even helped him unload once they arrived.

"You sure you don't want me to stick around? I can help put everything away."

"Nah," Clint said, wondering where Phil was hiding. "But thank you. I'm sure you've got to get back to the store."

"I do," she agreed. 

Phil didn't appear as soon as Bobbi left. Sighing, Clint locked the gate and dropped to the ground, arms propped on his knees. Had he made the wrong choice to not tell them? Clint liked Sam and had trusted him almost upon meeting him – he'd been the one who organized the help Clint needed to get the farm in working order. 

But Phil was a good man too. Sam hadn't told him which other SHIELD officer had disappeared. 

The thing was, Sam was loyal to SHIELD; his best friend had died in that war, and then his second-closest friend died too. He lost the two men he'd been closest to the last year of the war. 

No matter how good a man he was, people wanted a reckoning when terrible things happened. Clint wasn't convinced that Phil broke and gave up the bases. Not yet. And Phil wasn't well enough to know if he'd done it.

Soon, Clint promised himself. As soon as Phil remembered, he'd take him to Sam. Or bring Sam to him. 

SHIELD had paid Clint to fight for them but Clint had chosen to fight for SHIELD as well and they'd been good to him. Until Phil remembered, Clint would preserve Coulson's memory as one of their top officers.

~*~

"It was weird yesterday with you gone," Phil admitted.

"I talked to the animals," Clint answered.

"What?"

"I spent all my time up here alone. I talked to Mike and David a lot."

Phil laughed, "You need a wife," he teased, "or a husband?"

"You offerin'?" Clint laughed. "'Cause you get your memories back and maybe I'll let you apply."

Shaking his head, Phil leaned against Clint for a minute, pushing at him with his shoulder. 

 

The thing was… Clint thought about it later. After his night with Bobbi, which was probably the wrong way to go about considering it. But the people in town had jobs and homes and Clint wasn't giving up his farm so he wasn't going to look in town for a spouse. 

Phil didn't have a home. SHIELD was disbanded, the war was over. Sure people like Bobbi and Jessica were part of the underground making sure HYDRA did as little damage as possible, but they were settled into a town as well. 

Unless Phil had a spouse tucked away somewhere. 

The problem with hiding someone away meant they depended on Clint for all their conversation. Easy enough to supply. But then, in reverse, Clint started relying on Phil for the same thing.

It was easy to get used to him helping with chores, easy to work around each other in the kitchen with cooking and cleaning. If he needed someone to talk to, Phil was _always_ there. Hard to remember that he could leave whenever he wanted.

 

At night they'd share the small couch near the fire and read. Clint, of course, had read all the books before but most of them were new to Phil. And he loved discussing them.

"You don't have any bonding stories," Phil observed.

"Absolutely not," Clint agreed, trying really hard not to flinch.

"Oh," Phil said, catching the motion anyway. 

"No," Clint explained. "Not me. I can't bond. But I've met people who could. It's not all the stories make it out to be." He hesitated but thought he needed to say more. "I…" Clint had never told anyone this before – not even Nat. "I was in the circus when I was a kid."

"I suspect this isn't a good story," Phil replied.

"Not at all. We had a lot of animal acts. Some real showstoppers even. What people could train those animals to do… Those amazing acts brought in a lot of money for the circus."

"They were bonded pairs?" Phil guessed.

"Yeah, and the younger you catch the animal or human and the longer they stay together, the stronger the bond." Clint shuddered. 

"You'd think the circus would pamper them since it made them a lot of money."

"You'd think," Clint said. He stood up and leaned his forehead against the wall. The Ringmaster had been a sadistic bastard who controlled Carson's circus with a hell of a lot of fear. It wasn't like Clint didn't have his own share of nightmares.

A moment later, Phil moved, closing the distance between them. "I'm sorry I brought it up," he rested his head against Clint's back, between his shoulder blades. 

"Not your fault," Clint said, pushing away from the wall, Phil didn't back up, only raised his hands to rest them on Clint's biceps.

Sighing, Clint let Phil pull him into a hug. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been hugged, the meaning of it only for comfort. Sure hugs, like kisses, were preludes for other intimate things. But this was intimate in another whole way. Clint closed his eyes and relaxed into it. If really felt nice just to be touched.

~*~

Things changed after that. Smiles and casual touches became more common and Clint had a harder time remembering important words like 'amnesia' and 'war' and 'possible traitor' and 'duty.'


	3. Chapter 3

Month number eighteen. Nat hadn't reappeared in a year. Considering she was the only friend of his with a standing invitation to crash his place whenever she wanted, Clint was a little worried. But it wasn't like he had a network of friends to put tracers out. Nat was a loner, like him, and she hadn't wanted to settle down. Had even told Clint he'd get soft within a month and bored not long after that.

Clint was neither. Phil joined him most mornings now with the chores. He was building his strength and muscle mass like crazy again. He looked healthy, on the outside at least. "Are we ever gonna talk about how you came here?" Clint asked over scrambled eggs one morning.

"You've never asked before," Phil said.

"I'm asking now."

"Why?"

"You seem… better?" Clint said, wincing. Months to plan this conversation and he sounded like an idiot. "Healing is physical and mental. I don't know, I just wondered if you wanted to talk about it."

Phil obviously didn't but he'd been living in Clint's barn, eating Clint's food, and helping him every day. Clint sorta figured that would goad him into answering a few questions. "I don't remember much," Phil said, running one fingernail around the grooves in the table. "I get flashes all the time but they feel like the same memory? I was a soldier. I remember uniforms, I remember someone named Nick. He reminds me of Marcus but I can't figure out why he might have changed his name." Phil hesitated, then added, "I remember getting this," rolling up his sleeve to show the wicked scar on his left forearm.

"Also night battles, wood battles, standing over a map near a woman with black hair and a bald man." Phil touched his own thinning hair, "I think lack of hair was a requirement for us or something." Clint snickered. "I just can't seem to get them in proper order. It's frustrating. Those are the good dreams."

"And the ones that leave you screaming?"

"Wood cage, hardly any clothes, two tiny bowls for food and water. Pain. Feeling like I was drowning. Fear," Phil touched his right hip and yeah, Clint had seen those scars. He'd treated the whip marks when Phil had first arrived too so he knew about the torture. "Black and maroon. All the time. I remember wishing to see another color just so I didn't have to look at night and blood anymore."

Phil hesitated for a moment, "Some of the pain wasn't mine. Those are the nightmares that always wake me." Clint knew exactly what Phil meant. At least once a week he'd hear Phil in the barn, moving the square bundles of haystacks for no reason except to wear himself out. Sometimes he yelled at them. 

"What do you think it means?" Phil asked, surprising Clint.

"I think you were a soldier of SHIELD, probably an officer, and were captured by HYDRA."

"Why an officer?"

"The shape you were in when I found you. You looked like you'd been a prisoner for a long time, man. Why would they keep someone alive that long if he wasn't an officer?"

"Why'd they let me go?" Phil countered.

"Maybe you escaped?"

Phil shook his head, "I don't think I did." He stood then, obviously agitated and started cleaning up breakfast. "Go, get your chores done. I'll come help in a bit."

 

But Phil didn't help, instead it started to snow and he took the two warmest blankets and climbed up into the steeple to watch the snow. Clint could see him there from where he worked in the pasture, bundled up. Phil didn't seem to be looking at him though, just lost in thought.

Clint came back when he could smell dinner. "Do you want me to leave?" Phil asked.

"No," Clint said. "You can stay as long as you need."

"How about as long as I want?"

"That too," Clint agreed. "Wait, is one longer than the other?"

"Yeah," Phil said, walking up to Clint. He raised his hand to cradle Clint's jaw. "Yeah," he whispered and kissed him.

 

Clint wasn't naive – he knew that Phil kissed him to distract him. It was the reason he'd shuffled and hesitated and told Phil he'd never been with a man. To slow things down and figure out what Phil was thinking. But he didn't reject the advances either. It was nice getting morning and evening kisses, and a few in-between because they could.

The thing was – Phil seemed worried about what he professed to not remember. Maybe he really didn't remember and didn't want to. But kissing Clint to distract him from the conversation they had finally broached… it felt manipulative. A description Clint would not have considered before that.

The job to add insulation to the living quarters of the barn done, Phil started getting more ideas. What about extending the coop for all the Jims? What about a lean-to out in the pasture for sunny days for the Mikes? Or a water wheel for all of them.

"Easy, man," Clint said, unable to stop laughing. Phil grinned at him, kissing him just because. 

"What about a house? Don't you want to get out of the barn?"

"Eventually," Clint said, laughter drying up.

"What did I stick my foot into?" Phil asked. He didn't miss how uncomfortable the question made Clint.

"You didn't," Clint assured him. He wanted a house but Clint didn't want to build one alone with only his ideas in mind. A house meant a partner. And Phil wasn't that – couldn't be that until all the secrets and lost memories were resolved. "I guess I want to make sure I'm staying here? I still feel like there's something bad hovering around the corner. I want that feeling to fade first." Phil backed off, relaxing into Clint's side while they sat on the swing close to the edge of the clearing. "How are you feeling? Any more memories?"

Phil shook his head, turning to face Clint, pulling him close for a kiss. Grinning at him, Phil rubbed Clint's far shoulder, hand snaking lower, tweaking his nipple just to make Clint gasp. 

"Easy," Clint muttered into the kiss; again, he wasn't saying no to the idea, just acknowledging that Phil used this as a distraction.

"Tell me about yourself," Phil said when Clint pulled back. They were both hard and Clint wanted nothing more than to strip, yank Phil into his lap, and just stop flirting around the idea.

"What do you want to know?"

"What did you do before this?"

"Shot a bow and arrow."

That made Phil pull back and look at him oddly. "As a career?" 

"Pretty much," Clint said.

"And before that?" Phil ran one finger across Clint's belt before tugging on the fastening. 

Grinning, Clint scooted down, spreading his legs. "All circus prior to headin' out of my own."

"Seriously, Clint," Phil said, biting his jawline, running his tongue down the muscles in Clint's neck.

"Couldn't lie right now if I tried," Clint muttered. "The circus. It was awful." He was so close, "You should stop now," Clint said between shuddering breaths.

"Why? Because we're outside?"

Clint didn't answer. This would net him another cold dip in the river at this rate. 

Phil did stop, eyes narrowing. "You are single, right?"

"Yes. God yes," Clint agreed. Took a deep breath and mumbled, "But are you?"

" _What_?"

"Every evening we go a little further, and every night I wonder if we're cheating on some spouse you don't remember." 

Phil leaned back, then actually moved away from Clint. "Seriously? You bring this up right now?"

"When was I _supposed_ to ask? It's been a lot of kissing. We're just starting…" Clint blushed – he could feel his face heat up. At least Phil couldn't see that. "More," he said awkwardly. "We have to consider the possibility."

"There's no way," Phil said. "I don't feel like I'm missing someone that way. Cheating never crossed my mind. If I had someone, wouldn't I have at least considered what you just thought about? Somewhere in my brain?"

"I'd hope so," Clint said.

"I'm sure I'm single," Phil said, touching Clint's cheek to make him look at him, running a finger from temple to where his neck met shoulder. "I've had no memories of a partner or a spouse, no dreams of someone, no tugging at my heart that I should be missing a person or am missing someone. All there is," Phil hesitated, biting his lip, "is you. All day long, when I'm alone at night, and even during my sleep - when I'm not having nightmares. It's just you."

"Oh," Clint whispered.

"Yeah, Oh. Are we good?"

~*~

"I'm not afraid, you know," Phil said out of the blue one day while helping Clint with the garden.

He went back over their previous conversation and no, that didn't provide any clues either.

"Okay, I bite. Afraid of what?"

" _Not_ afraid," Phil repeated. "That you're HYDRA."

"Whoa. Wait? Why were you even thinkin' that?"

"Ever heard of capture bonding?"

"You thought I could be part of HYDRA?"

"Only for a bit!" Phil assured him. "I… I just don't remember getting away. It's bothering me."

"Never," Clint swore. "I promise I do not, nor ever have, belonged to HYDRA."

Phil took his hand and even looked slightly bashful, "I know. I trust you, Clint. I trust you a lot. I…" he pulled Clint into his arms for a second and kissed his ear before letting him go, yanking himself away to continue working. "You just needed to know that." He sighed and attacked the weeds in the garden once again. "I need my damn memories back," Phil muttered.

~*~

He climbed the steeple to watch the sunset. It was pretty narrow up here and cold. They'd installed a trap door at the bottom of the ladder to block out some of the chill. Clint wished he could get glass up here to close it in to keep it a little warmer.

The trapdoor opened again, Phil shivering as he climbed up. He burrowed right into Clint's arm – and blanket – and turned to watch the pink and purple sky with Clint. "Month number twenty-two," Clint said against the back of Phil's head.

"What's that?"

"How long I've lived here. How long I've been away from people. Well, except for you, and how long since I've seen… too much awfulness."

"Every day is a relief?"

Clint nodded. "You ever feel that way before? One of those moments that's seared into your brain to remember forever?" He threw random questions out every few days, trying to see if something realigned itself in Phil's head. As far as Clint could tell, nothing worked.

"It's cold out," Phil started.

"You should go back inside, I'll only be another minute. It'll start getting warmer soon, another month or so."

"Not what I was leading up to, in all honesty," Phil admitted. He wiggled around until he was facing Clint. "I'm tired of sleeping alone. I'm not asking for… I just don't want to wake up alone anymore, alright?"

Phil had wedged into every aspect of his life. Clint didn't regret any moment of it but he knew why he'd not offered this. Eventually Phil would leave. He'd regain some important memory or go on a vendetta against HYDRA, or want to find surviving SHIELD officers. _Something_. And Clint would have to learn to sleep alone again.

Should the probable future outweigh his desire for this right now?

"I'm sorry," Phil said and Clint realized he'd been silent and distant for too long.

"No, my fault," Clint assured him. "Are you sure?" he asked, because he needed to ask even though Phil bringing it up meant…

"Yeah," Phil said.

"Okay."

"That's not a very convincing yes," Phil teased.

Grinning, Clint leaned bit his earlobe. "Don't worry, I plan to do my convincing in bed." It made Phil laugh, which was all Clint wanted. And the fact that Clint wanted to make Phil laugh more than anything else? He was screwed. 

It was all fun right up until the point that Clint realized they needed to wipe their bellies off because neither of them wanted to sleep like that. Which meant rolling out of warm blankets, naked, and scrambling across the room to grab a wash cloth out of the basin of cold, cold water. Phil only laughed when Clint whined.

"You're doing this next time," Clint snarled, not really angry, diving back into the blankets to drop the cold cloth onto Phil's hot skin, making him yelp.

~*~

"Something is bothering you," Phil said, scraping the remains of their dinner into bowls meant for Jim and David.

"Yeah," Clint agreed, elbows on the table, fingers laced together with his chin resting on them. "I agree with that."

"You want to tell me what it is?"

"Why? We're going to get ten seconds into the conversation and you're going to come up with an excuse to kiss me and that'll be the end of it."

Phil stilled, knife in one hand, dirty plate in the other. The only thing moving was juice dripping off the plate. "I…" Phil set the plate down but not the knife. Clint reached for the pig sticker he kept in his boot, casually leaning back in the chair to get a better view. "I have been doing that, haven't I?"

"Yep," Clint agreed.

"I think I used to do that. Before," Phil said. "It feels familiar. Like no one should know my secrets? Or like I shouldn't trust anyone because there's never been many trustworthy people in my life?" He glanced over his shoulder and immediately caught on that Clint had shifted his gaze to watch the knife in Phil's hand. Sitting back, trying to look casual, Clint slowly reached down his leg, going for the knife in his boot. It felt like something had changed in the room. Gone tense and weird.

Had anything really changed? Or did Clint expect something terrible because things seemed so good between them lately? Clint blinked his eyes, considering. No, this was all _him_ , expecting betrayal. But why did this one hurt so much? Everyone who'd ever loved him left him in the end.

Oh. Clint closed his eyes, opened them again. Phil was still in the same spot, staring at him with big, blue eyes. That was why he was expecting something bad. Not Phil's fault at all. Nope, just Clint's for going and falling in love.

"Clint," Phil whispered.

"Phil?" he asked. 

"I'm putting this down now, okay?" Clint watched him, could see Phil trembling, big blue eyes watering, his expression fearful, as he dropped the knife, metal clanging against dishes.

He couldn't help it – he stood up and went to him. "Come 'ere," Clint said, pulling Phil into his arms. 

"I hate this. What is happening to me?"

"I think you're remembering," Clint said, tucking Phil's head beneath his chin. 

"Pretty damn sure I don't want to."

"Probably not," Clint agreed. 

"Tell me what you know."

"Huh?"

"Stop it, Clint. That first day I got here. I saw you pocket part of my tunic. The insignia, I think. Why?"

"Because I didn't recognize it," Clint answered. He leaned back, using his hand to tilt Phil's face up to look at him. "I'll tell you what I know if you tell me what you remember."

"Okay."

Clint led him to the chair and sat down, pulling Phil onto his lap. "You're a SHIELD Officer. I didn't recognize the rank, no. I took it into town at the end of fall when I went down there. I asked someone I trust if they knew it and they said yes."

"Why haven't you told me?"

"Your last name is Coulson, he called you Fury's Commander."

" _Why haven't you told me_?"

"Because you went missing eight months prior to the war ending."

"Missing… you mean captured. Tortured."

"Yes."

"And how did the war end?"

"Decisively," Clint said, vaguely. "SHIELD was all but destroyed."

"And the person who recognized my rank… they blamed me, didn't they?"

"Implicated only," Clint agreed. "I meant to tell him I found more than a ripped shoulder of a tunic, but you've been up here, healing and acting like you have _no clue_ and all I could think was I didn't want to see you strung up for something you can't remember. I… I don't have a lot of faith in people to do the right thing."

"I could have been lying."

"Yes," Clint said, "you could have. I made a choice that day."

"You regret it yet?"

"Mostly no," Clint teased. "Now, what haven't you told me that you remember?"

"They let me go," Phil said, finally no hesitation. "They specifically chose these mountains and I don't know why. At first I thought I'd never find my way down, that I was too weak to live. But then you found me, and I wondered… I thought you were meant to be my next stage of torture."

Clint thought back to an earlier conversation about capture bonding. "But you don't think that now?"

"Why do you keep telling me no when I ask?" Phil said, seemingly out of the blue, totally changing the subject. 

He kept the conversation light because he didn't know how to tell Phil that mutual orgasms were fine and dandy but intercourse… he wasn't ready to go there quite yet. "Oh, you know, I figured if you asked enough you'd really mean it. Eight times just didn't seem enough." Not when Clint wanted it to mean more. And he was glad he'd said no if Phil still kept thinking Clint might be a spy. 

"Eight?" Phil asked, thinking back in his head, blushing when he obviously came to the same number.

Laughing, Clint threw his head back and shifted Phil to a more comfortable position. "So you believe me 'cause I've been hesitating to go further with you. In bed." Clint couldn't stop laughing.

Phil shrugged, laughing himself. "Stupid, right?" He took a deep breath, "Explain decisively, please."

That ended his humor. "Every SHIELD base was destroyed within four days," Clint said. "They're either all dead or so scattered that no one can find them now."

"Someone gave up the bases," Phil looked horrified, eyes starting to water again. "But no one officer…"

"You weren't the only one missing," Clint said. "I don't know who the other was but a second officer went missing days before the first attack."

"You weren't with SHIELD?" Phil guessed.

"I was a merc attached to one of the ground units. A sniper. I wasn't SHIELD but I was fighting alongside them. It's how I met Sam Wilson. I served under him after Captain Rogers was lost. He was one of Sam's closest friends."

"You think I gave up the bases?" Leave it to Phil to ask that. His hesitation was enough to make Phil guess the truth. "That's a yes, then."

"It's a _maybe_ ," Clint argued. "They could have let you go to implicate you. They tortured you enough that you didn't remember your own name, Phil. That you'd forgotten the several years of your life. It's definitely a maybe."

"How could they have done it?" Phil wondered out loud. "We had extensive training, I can't imagine anything that would make me give up…"

Clint kissed his temple. It was time to stop this for now before Phil threw himself back into nightmares the whole night. "Stop," Clint murmured.

"I want to meet Sam Wilson," Phil said.

Those were the words Clint had been dreading; one of the main reasons he hadn't pushed this conversation. "As soon as the snow melts, all right? I'm not going down the mountain in this weather if it's not an emergency. And the last time I was there at least four HYDRA soldiers were in town, poking into everyone's business. We wait until I usually go."

"I can wait," Phil agreed. "I… I didn't mean today. I just wanted you to know I want to meet him. To give us both a chance to adjust to the idea. I need to _know_."

The idea he would leave? Clint didn't say it out loud though -- what was the point?

~*~

The wind changed that evening, the vibrant screeching of gryphons rolling down the mountain as if they were just outside the barn.

Phil trembled, shudders unstoppable while they continued. Clint wrapped a quilt around him, and then another blanket. Which turned into a glass of water and a cool rag when he started sweating. 

"What's wrong?" Clint asked. 

"That sound," Phil said. "I've heard it before. Clint. _Make it stop_." 

"I can't, Phil, I'm sorry. They're not even close, it's the gryphons that live up in the mountains. Wild animals far away." Clint rubbed his scalp, kissing his forehead. "It's just the wind."

"Make. It. Stop." Phil said again, eyes wide with terror. 

"Hang on," Clint stepped away but Phil lurched off the edge of the bed, forgoing both blankets to wrap his arms around Clint's torso. "Honey," Clint said, silly words pouring out of his mouth at Phil's distress. "I have something that might help. Just hang on another minute."

He untangled himself from Phil's steel grip and rushed across the room. He'd had this forever, plugs that fit into the ear to block out noise. It wouldn't stop everything but it should help. By the time he found them and turned back around, seconds really, Phil had started crying, rocking back and forth on the bed, his hands clasped over his ears.

"Hush," Clint said, moving one hand to slide the flexible material into Phil's ears. He slapped his hand right back over it as soon as Clint was done. "They can't hurt you, honey," he crooned, fitting Phil's other ear. 

The sobs were terrible, wracking his body with shudders. Clint climbed onto the bed, pulling Phil between his legs to rest against his chest. "They never squawk for long, it'll be over soon."

"No, no, no, no…" a litany of a single word pouring from Phil's mouth' a whisper, a moan – a prayer, a plea, a cry of horror. The word continuous as if it helped to stop all other sounds. 

Clint held him, murmuring. He knew the sounds helped more than actual words. He still felt as helpless as Phil looked. 

The screeching wasn't getting quieter. If anything, it seemed _louder_. Clint wanted to climb the steeple to investigate but didn't dare let go. 

Below, Mike and David were mooing and snorting and banging into the sides of their stalls as if panicking. "What is going on," Clint muttered, caressing Phil's head.

Something thudded against the outside of the barn door. It wasn't big enough to break the door but it thudded against it hard enough to rattle it. Now Clint would have to move.

Phil only shook his head no. "Don't want it, don't make me."

"I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want, darling. But something is going to mess up my barn. I have to go down there."

"No!" Phil shouted. The screeching outside stopped momentarily as if Phil's voice…

Clint _knew_ then.

"You… I… if you knew the truth…"

"I do know," Clint whispered gently, tilting Phil's head up to meet his gaze and kiss him on the lips. "Don't leave me, okay? Stay here and I'll take it back."

Hiccupping, Phil nodded, trying to stop his tears. "You'll come back after?"

"Yes," Clint said, punctuating the word with another kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

Something thudded against the barn door one more time. "It's snowing out, I'll be able to follow the tracks and take it home. I need some climbing gear and warmer clothes. My weapons. I can lure it way with one of the Jims easy enough."

"You're sure?" Phil asked, his sobs almost faded now. He took a deep breath. The squawking outside stopped as well. 

"I got this, honey," Clint assured him. "Don't leave me, okay? I'll be back in a couple days at the most. Take care of our farm."

"Yeah," Phil said. He moved to give Clint space enough to climb off the bed and start gathering his things.

"Your dreams are going to be bad and I won't be here to help." Clint looked around, "Wish I had a dog right about now. He could sleep with you, keep you company."

"I'm not a child," Phil said, sounding a tiny bit like himself again.

"Nope," Clint agreed, "but I still want to take care of you." He pulled out what he needed, dressing in layers, adding various knives as he did. He shoved a folded bow into his pack, and hooked another to his quiver.

"How many of those do you have?" Phil asked.

"Let's play a game," Clint said. "You find them all while I'm gone, not including these two, and if you're right, I'll agree to what you've asked me eight times."

"Right on the money or within a percentage?"

"One number up or down works."

"Clint," Phil glared at him. "That's barely half a percent knowing you."

Clint almost answered which almost gave him a clue. Instead he shut his mouth and grinned, raising both eyebrows at Phil. "You're smart. Within one number up or down."

Dressed and packed, Clint came back to the bed, reaching for Phil's hand. "Stay inside. Give me twenty minutes to get us away, then go downstairs and calm the animals. Please."

"I will," Phil promised. "Are you sure this is the best thing?"

"I'll take it home and back to its parents," Clint said. "It'll be fine."

"If it's not," Phil closed his eyes, trembling, "don't let it die."

"If you're sure," Clint agreed.

"We'll talk when you get back."

"Okay," Clint said again.

"I didn't remember," Phil said, the words rushing all together. "I wasn't keeping it a secret. I just didn't remember until now. How could I forget I could bond with…"

"Shh. Get your thoughts together," Clint kissed him briefly one more time. "We'll talk when I get back."

"Bye," Phil said, rolling onto his side, his back to Clint, pulling the blankets over him.

Grabbing a Jim as a treat, Clint slipped out the side door of the barn and took a deep breath.

"Bastards," Clint hissed, thinking about HYDRA. When this was all over he was going to head into town and teach each of them what it meant to piss off a master assassin.

Whistling, he walked around the side of the barn. Just outside the barn door sat a gray and white fluff ball the size of a full-grown hawk. It turned toward him, feathers all ruffled to make it look even bigger. 

"Phil isn't going to be right for you, birdy," Clint said. "I don't know what made you sense him or what dragged you down the mountain to find him. But I'm guessing HYDRA figured out he was capable of bonds and captured one of your family," he tilted his chin up the mountain, "and forced it. I'm sorry, birdbrain, but I don't think he'll ever allow that to happen again."

The squawk was low, questioning almost. It barely came up to Clint's knee. "I'm not him, birdbrain," Clint said. "But I'm what you get. Come on, let's go for a walk." Thank heaven for the full moon else he'd have a difficult time tracking in the dark. He teased it a little with Jim, the baby gryphon tumbling head over wings to get to food. Clint kept it just out of reach until they cleared the edge of the farm. 

He fed it, hoping that would keep it following him. It would be easier to catch a rabbit for it along the way than give up too many Jims. When it glanced back at the barn, it wasn't possible to tell the gender of gryphons until they were several months old, Clint started singing. 

Tilting its head, it squawked once at him, then started fumbling alongside Clint, nipping at his boots every few minutes. "You're cute, birdbrain," Clint said. He didn't dare reach down to touch it, he'd seen the damage a sharp beak and talons could do when something didn't know its own strength yet.

He kept singing, making up words, adlibbing holiday songs or bawdy tavern songs. Either people could bond with animals, or they couldn't. It didn't work with _all_ animals, only the smarter ones. Carson and the Ringmaster had done that in the circus – which was one of the reasons Clint had hated his time there. Capturing human and animal bonded pairs had been the only job he refused to do as a teenager. He'd been beaten for it but still had refused each time. 

He'd seen an aquatic circus performance once, when they were wintering in warmer climates by the ocean. The woman and the dolphin… Carson's had wanted a pair like that but refused the expense necessary to transport the dolphins. He'd seen humans bonded to lions, gorillas, a couple smart horses, even a wolf. All prisoners of a sort – either the animal or the human. The visitors who paid top dollar to see the amazing acts had no idea how much man and beast suffered for it. Clint had grown to _hate_ the circus.

Every circus master dreamed of a gryphon. But they were rare and fiercely territorial and damn difficult to capture alive. They had to be found as babies or it was impossible. He knew three documented cases of gryphons killing the human they bonded just to be free.

At least they knew the reason HYDRA had dumped Phil at this mountain now. The damn soldiers probably hoped he'd hear the gryphons and go to them. Either Phil would have bonded with another and they wanted to capture both of them again, or the gryphons would have refused the bond and killed Phil. The reasoning didn't matter to Clint, the only thing that mattered was keeping Phil away from them. HYDRA and the gryphons both.

They climbed half the night before birdy started stumbling and making distressed noises. Easy enough to stop where they were, before the climb got so steep Clint needed ropes or grips to make it. The rocky terrain meant enough tiny alcoves for Clint to settle, blocked from wind and snow.

Birdy took that as his indication to climb onto Clint's lap, talons carefully raised up, and curled into a ball to sleep.

"Well, you're smarter than I thought," Clint whispered, taking off one glove to pet the soft fur. It cooed beneath his hand. Or it could have been a snore. He wasn't sure.

Closing his eyes, Clint drifted off to sleep.

~*~

They started the day with three rabbits, giving two to birdy. This part was the more difficult trek, mostly because of the short vertical climb. Clint wasn't positive where the nest was located, just knew it was higher than this short cliff. They could have walked around but it would add hours. He didn't want to waste that time. Whatever had happened to make birdy leave was troublesome. Adult gryphons did not abandon their children, especially at this young age. 

Currently it was more body than wing and unable to fly. Rigging up a harness would be the easiest option, but he had no idea how birdy would react to it. "Don't try and attack me, birdbrain, please," Clint muttered, crouching down to pet it.

He picked it up and settled it against his chest. It started that same noise as the night prior, maybe snoring but possibly cooing. "I hope your parents are okay, little one," Clint said. "I'm not sure what we'd do with a full-grown gryphon at my farm." He organized his climbing gear to hang off birdy's harness now that he knew it would relax there. 

"I'm not going to speculate on why you're being so good with me." Clint paused, remained quiet for a full minute, and sighed, "Okay, I am. Does it have to do with me smelling like Phil?" The idea was a little crazy but what did Clint really know about gryphons? "Does that make Phil your mother if he's the one you're trying to reach out to?" He'd read a few books about gryphons over the years – they were fascinating creatures – but how much was fact and how much had been fanciful writing? He had no idea.

"Guess I'm going to learn if your parents aren't around. But I'm telling you, no eating Mike or David." He continued pulling himself up the rocks, hammering in nails and tying off the rope for security as he went. "Are there vegetarian gryphons? You wanna be the first?" It kept cooing against him so Clint kept talking, figuring a calm birdbrain with sharp talons and beak was much better than an agitated one.

"How'd you get down to us anyway?" he wondered. He reached the top of the cliff, slowly peaking over the ledge. Nothing seemed out of place. Clint hoisted himself up, knives jingling as he moved. He pulled two knives free then birdy. He wouldn't be able to use his bow properly until the harness was removed, which meant removing his pack. He wasn't ready to do that yet.

A grassy ledge surrounded by boulders, the wind blew sharp but not freezing. "Where next, birdy?" he whispered. Squawking and clicking – Clint tried to ignore how cute it sounded – it tumbled off to the left, heading to a break in the grass and a dark area that looked like a recess in the rocks. "Hang on," Clint muttered; untying the rope and piling it near the edge. He didn't want to lose it – rope was too expensive to leave lying around.

The recess ended up being a tunnel wider than Clint but half his height. He crawled to follow it through, ending up on a large opening full of twigs. That looked like a huge nest and reeked worse than an outhouse. "Ugh," Clint said, "what's that smell?"

As soon as he looked up, he knew. Three dead HYDRA solders were impaled on narrow limbs, the third one twice higher than Clint's height. The nest seemed to be buried in a large hole in the rocks. "There's some good birds," Clint whispered even as he covered his nose with the bandana around his neck. It chirped, jumping up and down, flopping its little wings around, trying to reach the lowest man.

"No way birdy, I'll catch you another rabbit. Rancid HYDRA soldier will sour your belly, little one." He looked around for clues – the parents had to be close by but only found large black feathers. He stuck one under birdy's nose. "This works for dogs. I bet you don't have any dog in you though. Go find your dad, birdy."

The squawk turned almost morose and it trembled a little, butting Clint's leg. "We gotta find them, little one. I don't want a living mom or dad gryphon tearing up my barn to get to you." He held the feather out again, knowing it was ridiculous to treat it like a fully sentient being. In the end it was still a bird – sort of. A bird and a big cat and a couple other things as well that Clint couldn't guess. It turned back toward the hole they'd originally crawled through. Instead of going straight back out, it veered toward the left, the tunnel getting narrower until Clint had to crawl on his belly to follow it. 

"Don't get me stuck, birdbrain," he whispered, just as it turned a corner and popped out into a patch of light. Maneuvering around the corner was tricky but Clint made it, ending up in a small field about the size of David's cage. Rock closed it in on two sides, trees on the other, leaving a narrow opening straight ahead. 

And another six dead HYDRA soldiers. "They sent nine men after you?" Clint whispered. He reached out and ruffled birdy's feathers. "How lucky are you to have lived? Of course, they could have been stupid and careless. Who knows."

He didn't stop it from pecking at one of them. Clint wasn't going to win that battle with lunch all over the ground. Maybe the parents encouraged it to eat rancid meat to toughen it up. Maybe he shouldn't let it get used to eating human. It looked more and more like this one would come live with Phil and Clint. 

"Mom? Dad?" Clint said, talking in his normal voice. "Come out, come out wherever you are."

Only the wind moved around them. Clint walked to the edge of the field and checked the whole perimeter. The trees were large but not deep; most of them dead. Only the outer layer had brown leaves clinging to the branches. Drawing a couple knives, he circled around each base, looking for tracks or dislodged bark to indicate something had climbed up. Pulling himself up via the lowest branch, Clint climbed half way up the tree, jumping from one to the other. Birdy played on the ground beneath him, trying to run up a couple trunks to reach Clint, all the while clicking at him.

"Hang on, I'll be right down." Finding nothing, Clint shimmied down the trunk, heading toward the narrow ledge. "Aww, bird," he said, looking over.

A black-feathered gryphon hung over the side about ten feet down, taking up the entire narrow ledge, close to the size of a large plow horse. Birdy at his feet chirped twice, waited a few seconds, and did it again. The male gryphon below didn't react at all.

"Sorry, little one," Clint whispered, "but we haven't found mama yet."

Find the mother they did, on top of the rocks where they'd crawled out to get to the field; another three HYDRA soldiers littering the ground around her. "Twelve," Clint whispered, reaching down to pet birdy. It clicked and chirped where it rested against Clint's leg, not moving toward its mother. 

She didn't react either. "I'm sorry, birdbrain," he walked around her. Stupid HYDRA, killing these majestic gryphons for their offspring just to torture someone. Clint walked forward, touching her soft feather and furs, yanking three large gray feathers loose. "For you someday," Clint told birdy. He'd seen a couple more that he'd grab on their way back down.

"We have to cover our tracks, little one," Clint told it. "Hide that you lived and that some human walked up here after they died. They're going to assume it was Phil. I'd rather they think Phil dead right now. You too, really."

It took another two hours to hide all their tracks. Then he needed to get them down the vertical cliff before dark. They slept in the same spot, or close to it at least, overnight. Birdy curled up in his lap again, a little heavier than last night but Clint had fed him two more rabbits for dinner.

Clint curled up between the rocks, his layers of insulation, the pack he carried, and birdy. "Gonna have to name you," he muttered, yawning. "Well, maybe Phil will want to do that." Birdy chirped at him, the lovely smell of leftover rabbit wafting up at Clint. "Ugh, you need something for your breath. Gross." He closed his eyes, fingers buried in birdy's fur and feathers, and they slept.

~*~

"I need to find a way to break this news to Phil," Clint told birdy as they left the woods at the far end of Clint's property. "What if he can't take it? Or wants to leave?" Clint looked down, sighing at the fluff tumbling alongside him. It wasn't like he could let birdy die. Not after witnessing the massacre up the mountain. He didn't want Phil to leave either. "So I have to decide, don't I? My responsibility to an orphaned gryphon or a broken man." Of course, if Phil left, Clint would have no way to bond with birdy – that was all on Phil's end. 

Both Mikes were in the next pasture, obviously alarmed by the little predator dogging Clint's feet. It clicked as soon as it saw them, changing direction and heading straight to the fence.

"No, birdbrain," Clint hissed, leaning down to pick it up, ignoring its hissing. "No," he repeated. He couldn't bond with it so it would have to learn verbal commands. "You're smart enough to get that. No hunting my livestock."

Gah. The expense of buying more fence – he'd have to get something like the fence used on the chicken coop to line the pastures with if birdbrain didn't get it. Which would only work for a short time because gryphons could _fly_ and while Clint could physically stop it right now, he wouldn't be able to soon. He'd seen the size of mom and dad.

"Clint," Phil said, leaning against the fence.

"Hey, how are you?" Clint asked, birdy following meekly behind him. He yanked Phil into a hug, both of them feeling tense muscles relax as soon as they were touching again. 

"Better. I take it the parents are dead?"

"And twelve HYDRA soldiers," Clint said. "They must have held them off long enough for birdbrain to get away."

"Birdbrain? Really?"

"Birdy?" Clint tried. "I didn't want to name it. I know we can't keep it." 

Phil sighed, running a hand through his thin hair. "But it won't survive on its own, will it? And we can't exactly advertise for another human capable of bonding. Obviously HYDRA will send more men to find out what happened to their dead soldiers. What if they come here looking?" Clint remained quiet, letting Phil think about it. "Hiding her now is easy, but what about in six months? How big were her parents?"

"Think plow horse. A big one. Mama was bigger than dad but I don't know if that was normal or what."

"We'd have to build a nest for her, and find ways to feed her until she can fly."

"Birdy likes rabbit and we can't hide it once it starts flying," Clint said. "I can't tell it no air for safety."

"You ever see the wild ones before?"

"Never," Clint said. 

"Then there's her whole future and finding a mate and raising babies."

"I think we should worry about the more practical things right now, like not letting birdy eat Mike or David, and settling her on a farm. If we're doing that," Clint added. "You sure it's a her?"

"Pretty sure. Do you want to do that – keep her here?" Phil asked. He crouched down, holding out his hand. Birdy had settled on the ground behind Clint's boots as if waiting its verdict. "She really likes you, Clint."

"Bird bonding," Clint teased and Phil glanced up at him, confused. He pointed at himself, "Hawkeye," then her. "Birdbrain." Phil rolled his eyes but didn't laugh. "Well, if you're the human she seems to want to bond with, doesn't that make you the mother?"

Chuckling, Phil shook his head. "Apparently not, from what little I can gather from its thoughts, gryphons bond to their father but cling to their mother. Kinda like she's doing right now, hiding behind your boots. And you're the one feeding her, not me."

"Oh," Clint said. He twisted around, bending over to ruffle its feathers. He could live with that. Mama had been pretty badass from what he'd seen on the mountain. Phil remained crouched close to the ground, hand held out. "Are you sure, Phil?"

"No," he admitted, "but we can't let it die and I think I owe her."

"What do you mean?"

"I already got one killed, and apparently their technique worked so well on me they went back to steal another baby. It's time I saved one instead of killed one."

Birdy uncurled from behind Clint and shook out its body, fur and feathers fluffing up. "She's adorable," Phil whispered. It tumbled out from behind Clint, slinking across the ground to Phil, quiet as Phil gathered it in his arms. 

"We're not naming her birdbrain, though she seems to accept birdy."

"It was more a nickname," Clint admitted, "just in case I could have left her up there safely."

"Gesa," Phil said, glancing at Clint. She chirped at Phil as soon as he looked away from her.

"Why are you looking at me for approval?"

"You're her mother," Phil teased. "Do you like it?"

Clint took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. "Are you sure you'll be okay? That this is alright?"

"No, not sure and yes, it's alright. I don't want HYDRA to take this away, Clint." Phil wiggled his fingers and birdbrain – Gesa – moved forward again, glancing back at Clint.

"Go on," he said, dropping to the ground, legs folded beneath him. She leaned against Phil's hand, making that cooing noise once again. "Is that her _purring_?" Clint asked.

"I think so. She feels pretty content right now."

"What's she feel like?"

"Basic needs; food, shelter, comforted by you. She's only touching me because she trusts you, Clint. I think… she can't understand your words but she can feel what you're thinking, much like I can feel what she's thinking. Pretty sure she's your baby before being mine."

"Oh," Clint said, grinning when Gesa rambled back to him, settling on Clint's folded legs. Phil sat on the grass as well, watching them.

"You aren't going to be able to do that for long, little one," Phil told her. Gesa ignored him and butted against Clint's hand until he buried his fingers in her fur.

"You are going to cost so much money," Clint sighed.

"Are you sure about this?" Phil asked.

"Which part?"

He pointed at Gesa, then himself, then Clint, "I don't know a thing about gryphons but she's declaring us her family. You and I and her… what if..."

"I'd like you to stay," Clint blurted out. Might as well admit it and see how Phil felt. Get it all out in the open and go from there. "I know you probably have some notion to go find your SHIELD officers. I know this probably isn't how you wanted to spend your life, but I've seen a lot of war and death and misery in my time. This isn't exciting, but I've earned this. I _want_ this."

Phil turned his head away, looking through the pasture. Gesa shook Clint's hand off of her and went to Phil, leaning against his thigh. Rubbing against him until he started caressing her wings. He remained quiet for so long that Clint started preparing mentally for disappointment.

"I can't guarantee all the time," Phil started. "You're right, I want to know if Nick is alive. I owe him an apology for what happened at the very least. HYDRA broke me, Clint. If they did it once… I'll never be an officer again, never be trusted with confidential information.

"But I'd rather be here, with you if you'll have me. Maybe it would be easier to get word out via Sam or someone else. Then Nick can always find me when he's ready."

"And if he wants you to go back to war?"

"I don't know," Phil admitted. "I don't think I could. Especially if it meant losing you two." He finally turned to look at Clint, holding out his free hand. "Come here, please."

Clint went, how could he not?


	5. Part Two

She slept in the barn for now, in the stall Phil had used before moving to Clint's bed. Clint had hung her parents' feathers inside the stall. Every day, Gesa gathered bits of rock or stick and carried them back with her, making a nest that took half the stall. She stole things from Clint and Phil, covering her nest with old t-shirts so she could sleep on them. Clint wasn't sure how she got up the ladder but he suspected Phil had something to do with it.

Phil got better as well, Gesa healing over the rough edges left raw by death. "His name was Shane," Phil finally admitted one night.

"Shane?"

"The gryphon HYDRA used. We didn't bond properly – I don't know why. Maybe I knew what they'd do as soon as I met him. Maybe Shane sensed it too. But I had to call him _something_.

"They kept him in a cage barely large enough for a human, poking and prodding him, yanking out feathers. Never feeding him enough…" Phil shuddered in Clint's arms. Clint let Phil talk about Shane all night, both of them crying, silently comparing him to Gesa. Phil getting the poison that HYDRA caused out of his system with the confessions.

"Do you still think you gave up the bases?"

"I know I did," Phil whispered. "I remember doing it." He buried his head in his hands.

"Why didn't they kill you?"

He hesitated before answering. "Another form of torture, I think. They let me go up here, probably assuming I would go to the gryphons. Instead you found me."

"You found me, you mean," Clint said, hugging Phil tight. "I'm glad you're here, Phil."

"I don't want to leave, ever, but I know… I should let Nick know I'm alive."

"I'll talk to Sam. Unless you want me to ask Sam to come here?"

"Not here, I don't want to endanger Gesa."

"There's something else to consider," Clint said. "Neither of us has left the farm without her these past few months. I don't know how she'll do if one, or both of us, go to town."

"Guess we'll find out soon enough."

Clint trained Gesa to hunt and Phil taught her to stalk; how to hide her bulk in tall grass or amidst tree trunks, how to pounce and catch unsuspecting game for meals. They installed a rope on her stall so she could open and close the door at will once she was large enough that Clint didn't worry about the other predators living on the mountain.

"I can't keep her away from Mike," Clint groused, irritated when he, once more, had to chase her out of the pasture. Both Mikes were better around her but neither really liked her, instinct telling them she was a hunter.

"She wants someone to play with, I think," Phil said.

"What about a dog?"

Phil laughed, then actually considered it. "That might work? Something large enough to tumble with her. Winter's almost over, you can always look around when you go down to Lynette."

"It should be a hunting dog," Clint said, "something I can use that wouldn't make people wonder."

"Something smart that could be trained in case you have an accident," Phil suggested. Clint shuddered, "Not that smart," Phil whispered, rubbing his back.

As soon as the snow melted, Clint started getting a pack ready to travel. Gesa nudged at it, each time Phil letting her know that no, this wasn't a trip she could take. That she'd stay with him while Clint was gone two nights. She complained in Phil's head, who totally understood; he didn't want Clint to go either.

"So," Phil muttered against the back of Clint's head, just after they went to bed, knowing he'd head out for town in two more days, "if I ask an eleventh time, will you still say no?"

"Eleven is a good number," Clint said, rolling over to face Phil, elbows on either side of his shoulders while he looked at him. "It's two singles side by side. I think that works. What about you?"

"I think one worked," Phil teased, "but I get why you said no. I'm not scared about this, anymore. I have my memories back and I think you're reassured I'm single and not going to run back to whatever is left of SHIELD."

"I'm good," Clint said, closing the distance between them to kiss Phil. 

" _Good_ ," Phil said, handing Clint the oil he'd put by their bed. "Take me, please," he said between kisses. 

Clint obliged.

~*~

Town didn't seem any different in the spring. He stopped in the pharmacy first, greeting Jessica. Clint grinned at her immediately, "Congrats on your little one," he said. 

She froze, eyes wide in surprise. "How'd you know?"

"Good eyesight," Clint admitted, "and I don't see you every day. I suspect it's easier to hide then."

"Only Sam knows," she admitted, briefly touching her stomach. 

"I won't tell a soul," Clint promised. "How is Sam, by the way? I need to speak with him actually."

"He's away," Jess said, "left yesterday and won't be back for two days. He received notice from an old friend that he couldn't ignore."

"Well that sucks," Clint said. "You'll tell him I came by for my it's-spring-and-I'm-still-alive check in?"

Jess nodded as she pulled out Clint's bi-annual list and went over it, flipping it around for Clint to make sure he needed everything on there. "Why don't you lower the bandages – I still have a lot, and remove the headache medicine. I've not used it," he said. "Hey, I do need a suggestion. You up for that or maybe you can tell me who to ask?"

"What is it?"

"I want a dog. Something I can train to help out, just in case, or something to hunt with me."

She glanced around and even though they were alone, lowered her voice to ask, "You're not a bonder, are you?"

"Definitely not," Clint said. "I fell and twisted my ankle this winter, nothing major but something in the house to help me out would have been, well, helpful. I'm thinking a dog."

"Or a wife," she teased. "That might be better than a dog."

"You're the only woman I've met Jess, who I could love forever," Clint teased, "and alas, you're already taken."

She laughed then, whole body shaking from it. "I'm going to tell Sam you said that, ya' know."

"That's fine, keep your man on his toes. I hear it's good for relationships."

"You're something else, Barton. Try the saloon, the new barkeep there knows a little something about everyone. He might be able to help you."

Winking at her, he left for the general store. "Clint Barton, my man, how are you?" Bobbi asked, punching him in the shoulder.

He was half tempted to point out that she didn't call him boy this time. "Ouch, knock that off. I'm good, how are you?" They bartered over his list, Clint adding a few things he thought Phil might like that he casually pointed out he'd never tried. 

"You need a place to stay tonight?" she said, glancing up and down.

"No repeats, remember?" he said, suddenly uncomfortable. He hadn't thought to prepare a reason since she'd implied it wouldn't happen again and "I'm taken now" definitely couldn't be Clint's reason. "How's Ward?" he asked.

"Ugh," she said. "Still wants to marry me. He's a creepy man, a lot of the townspeople really like him and he's never out of line, from what I see, with other women. It's just me he fixates on. I can't stand it."

"How are the HYDRA soldiers doing here? No problems?" he asked. 

She shook her head no. "Hey," she leaned in, "we got someone new who took over the saloon. You should go introduce yourself."

"What's his name?"

"Hunter. Lance Hunter. Sound him out for me, why don't you?"

"You haven't asked Jess or Sam to do that?"

"Jess and Sam think I should _marry_ him," she bit her lip as if the idea had crossed her mind a few times. "They're just so happy with each other… I don't think I'm built that way?"

"Let me get this straight," Clint asked, "you want me to go scope out this guy as potential husband material for you?"

"You don't know him and the saloon is where you go for gossip. I'm…"

"Nothing else needs said," Clint agreed, "I'll do it."

Bobbi tilted her head to look at him again, "You seem different this time."

"Got nothin' to prove to you anymore," Clint said with a wink, hoping it would distract her.

Laughing, she waved him off, "Get out of here, Barton."

He saved the saloon for last. He wanted to ask Hunter about a horse and wagon to hire to take his things back to the farm. It would be a good excuse to ask after Bobbi. He needed to ask about dog breeders anyway.

"G'day mate," he said as Clint hauled himself into the stool. "What can I get for you?"

"Whatever's on tap," Clint said with an exaggerated sigh.

"Passin' through?"

"No, I live on the outskirts, partially up the mountain. Are you new?"

"Been here four months," Lance said. "Are you Barton?"

"Heard about me?"

"Here and there. Mostly that you don't come into town very often but you're one of the good ones."

"Here's to a good reputation," Clint said, raising his beer. "You've got a good one too," he added.

"Really? Are you looking for something?" Lance asked.

"A dog, something to hunt with. Something I won't smash under my boot accidently."

"Temperament?"

"I live alone, got no family or kids so I'm not worried about that. Something a little smarter than your average dog that barks every time the wind blows if possible."

"I know exactly what you mean," Lance said. "Had a fellow in here yesterday complainin' about his favorite dog. His wife's pregnant with kid number three and the damn dog has threatened the house doctor every time he's come out. They're all pretty annoyed with the situation."

"I don't get visitors," Clint said, "anyone up there wouldn't belong on my property."

"His name's George. I'll point you in his direction when you're ready to go."

"Thanks. One more question – what about a horse and trailer? I'm here for my six-month resupply and I could use a wagon to rent to help get it back."

"Why don't you buy one?" Lance asked. "Just curious," he added.

"I hate horses," Clint admitted. "I've got a pair of cows, pigs, and a roost full of chickens already. Add one dog and I'm done for animals."

"How you usually get your purchases back?"

"Borrowed Sam's one year but Jessica said he's out of town, also used Frank's – the old saloon barkeep. I think Bobbi at the general store has one to rent out, doesn't she?"

Lance grinned at that. "That's what I hear. I have one but I'd recommend Bobbi first. Just don't think to undercharge her because she's a woman. She's a spitfire that one."

"Is she?" Clint asked, perking up a little.

"She's already got one soldier salivating after her, not sure she wants another."

"Soldier?" Clint asked with his best 'who me' voice.

"You're a former soldier, aren't you? You've got that look about you," Lance asked.

"Merc," Clint admitted, "retired," the words flat and short. Lance nodded and took the hint.

"Clint Barton!" someone said and he caught the way Lance stiffened at the new voice before he spun around on the stool.

"Captain," he said, nodding to Rumlow. 

"Come join us, Ward still owes you a drink."

"That was ages ago, he doesn't owe me anything," Clint said, raising his half-full beer. For all that he hated the stuff, it was better to buy one and nurse it than give people a reason to talk if he completely refused it.

Rumlow however had the look of a man who didn't like no. He came over and dropped a coin on the bar, then wrapped a hand around Clint's shoulder, almost yanking him off the stool. "Join us, my man."

Clint did. He wasn't going to start an argument in the saloon. _Friendly and forgettable_ , he reminded himself. 

Invariably, the conversation turned toward gryphons. "You ever hear them?" Ward asked.

"Screeching sometimes when the wind's right. I've never seen 'em though. I lost a piglet over a year ago, I always thought it was a gryphon aiming for an easy meal."

"No other problems with them?" Rumlow asked. "I'd think people would come hunting them in your area."

"I've never seen _anyone_ hunting up there," Clint said. "Game is scarce. I mostly eat my own food and a lot of vegetables. It's usually pretty quiet." 

"You ought to find yourself a wife then," Rumlow teased, "being that alone isn't good for a man."

"I have the worst luck with women," Clint admitted with a sigh. He launched into a true story about how a steady girlfriend had come knocking at an inopportune time, completely misconstruing the woman in Clint's room. Or the other tale about how he'd taken a shine to a spy. And the last tale about falling for a woman who was married -- to someone in Clint's outfit. "I was done after that, man," Clint said, shaking his head.

When Rumlow demanded another round, Clint hesitantly took the second glass, tasting water with a little ale added for appearance. He caught Lance's eye and nodded once in thanks, who smiled briefly at him.

When he finished the second drink, Clint stood, "Thanks guys, but I need some sleep. I've got an early start tomorrow."

"Where you sleeping? There's room in the barracks," Rumlow said, his grin just the other side of sleazy. 

"I've got a room here for the night," Clint said, caught off guard by Rumlow's one over.

"Here's your key," Lance said, appearing out of nowhere to stand at Clint's elbow. "I’m sending dinner up right now."

"Thanks, man," Clint said. 

"I sent Billy to fetch your purchases. He's stocking the wagon right now to go in the morning." A good man indeed. Clint would have to let Bobbi know.

After dinner Clint took a walk, following Lance's directions. He was greeted at the edge of the fence by a black and gray patched dog, shoulder height with Clint's hip. "Well, you're a beauty," he said. It just stared at him.

"Can I help you?" a man asked, walking out, staying clear of the dog.

"George?"

"Yeah."

"Lance Hunter sent me about your dog."

"Oh," George said, deflating. "The doctor wants him put down, doesn't he?"

"Actually, I wanted to buy him."

George blinked at that, then tried to smile. "Really?"

"I live alone, partially up the mountain. I could use a dog if you've got a mind to spare him."

"Definitely," George agreed, "he's a good dog just too much for my wife to bear. Takes being a guard dog too seriously, ya' know."

"Sounds exactly like what I need," Clint reassured him.

 

Billy and Teddy, the boys Lance sent with him to bring the wagon back, were very helpful. Again, another good idea from Lance – Clint barely knew him and was already impressed. His only concern was Gesa. Clint and Phil had discussed it but he still worried she wouldn't go with him. He needed Phil and Gesa off the property while they unloaded the wagon.

"Aren't you worried he'll run right back to Mr. George?" Billy asked, pointing at Lucky. 

"I think I'll keep him in the barn a couple days," Clint admitted. "Get 'im used to me, Mike, David and Jim, feed him too much the first few days to help get him acclimatized. Hopefully that'll solve most of it."

He gave them a decent tip and made Teddy promise to go find Ms. Bobbi and tell her that Clint say "I approve."

As soon as they were gone, Clint went up into the steeple to look around. To the far north at the edge of his land he could see Phil and Gesa playing at the edge of the woods, Phil racing around tree trunks while she tried to catch him.

He gave Lucky some food and water and took off at a run to join them.

She squawked as soon as she saw Clint and bowled into him, making him laugh as they rolled over and over. She was already the same height as Lucky and a bit wider. Phil joined them, pulling Clint into a kiss. Gesa smelled him multiple times like she didn't understand the strange new scents on him between town, the boys, and Lucky.

"We missed you," Phil teased. 

"Yeah, me too," he replied. "We've got a lot of stuff to put away, and I got a dog. Let's see how they do together."

Gesa entered the barn through her stall, freezing as soon as she saw Lucky.

"Don't break your new toy," Clint muttered, petting the nape of her neck. Lucky woofed once and came to the stall door, rearing up on his back feet to look over it. Five minutes later they were wrestling across the open center of the barn, getting underfoot while Clint and Phil put everything away. 

"I think he's smitten," Phil said, pointing at Lucky.

Clint told him about his two days away while Phil filled him in on their farm. "Sam was out of town, I told Jess I wanted to talk to him."

"You think he'll wander up here?" 

Clint froze at the question, thinking. "I didn't tell her not to send him. Damn it, Phil. I should have set a date I'd come back down."

"It'll work out," Phil assured him, "Sam is a good man and we planned to tell him the truth either way."

"Not about Gesa though!"

"Hopefully we'll get enough notice to hide her. It'll be alright, Clint."

 

Two full weeks passed before Clint stopped worrying every moment about Sam appearing. Then another three weeks. Lucky adjusted, sticking close to Gesa most of the time, hunting with her and making a general nuisance trying to impress the gryphon like she was an overgrown dog.

Clint and Phil laughed every time.

Then she started to _fly_. Lucky's crazy barking brought both of them at a run to the back of the barn. Gesa crouched on the roof, blinking and looking around like she had no idea how she got there. Whooping, Clint clapped his hands. Phil climbed up the steeple and onto the roof, reassuring her. He scattered as she spread her wings and ran, leaping off the edge of the barn to catch a short air current. Awkward landing aside, she did well. Clint wrapped his arms around her, ruffling her fur and feathers until she clicked her beak at him.

They both thought she settled and that things were good. 

Then Mike and David each gave birth and it took both Phil and Clint to keep an over-curious Gesa away from the babies. Her inquisitiveness constantly sending Mike and David into a raging panic. 

Phil and Clint were exhausted.

~*~

Their garden needed planting, Clint took care of the seeds; half way through the garden he heard someone shout "Hello!"

Panicking, Clint scrambled out of the garden and over the fence to reach the path approaching the barn, hoping that Gesa and Phil would hide. Sam Wilson leaned against the entrance gate, waving as Clint appeared.

"How's Jess feeling?" Clint asked, trying to calm his heart and remember exactly what Phil and Gesa and planned for the morning.

"She's good. Said it took you about three seconds to figure out her secret."

"Does everyone know now?"

"Not a soul," Sam admitted. "She hasn't gained any additional weight yet so it's still pretty easy to hide. Well, Bobbi knows because Jess keeps throwing up her breakfast when they walk to work together in the mornings but Jess wanted to tell her anyway."

"Congrats, man," Clint said, holding his hand out to shake Sam's. "Scared yet?"

"Terrified," Sam admitted. Clint sat on the fence and Sam turned around, facing the way he'd come. "Jess said you wanted to see me."

"Yeah, we need to talk." Clint motioned for Sam to follow him toward the barn. 

"Outside is good," Sam said. "I'm up for walking or just sitting on the porch."

Clint narrowed his eyes then, eyeing Sam, picking up immediately that he seemed a little nervous. "You walked the whole way up here. What do you think I'm playing at, Wilson?"

He grinned wide and spread his hands, "Nothing, Clint. It's just you never wanted anyone up here since you moved in. It seemed odd."

"Odd how?" Clint asked.

"It's probably nothing," Sam said.

"Then share, man. I don't want there to be misunderstandings between us," Clint said, pretty sure Sam wouldn't be happy that Phil had been up here for months already.

Sam sighed, and shrugged. "Okay, you asked. You were a gun for hire during the war. You never chose a side. And that story you told Rumlow and his cronies about dating a spy? Well, we know that was true and that she was HYDRA."

"We?" Clint asked. "Sam, I'm out here with no weapons, no plan except to share some news with you. I'm not part of HYDRA and while yeah, SHIELD paid me to be loyal, I never would have betrayed them for any amount of money." Clint took a deep breath, "especially now."

Sam narrowed his eyes and looked at Clint in return. "What changed? Does it have to do with Coulson?"

That was an astute guess, Clint was impressed. "What makes you say that?"

"Because Fury doesn't believe he's dead," Sam said, hands on his hips. "I shouldn't tell you that but I've watched you since you came here, Barton. I know you were a merc, hell I worked with you and you have more morals than half the SHIELD soldiers I knew. And I know you're retired. I don't believe for a moment that you'd choose HYDRA. That's why it's me up here, because I'd like to think I'm your friend."

"Why you're up here. Versus who?"

"Bobbi," Sam said.

"Bobbi with the gun callouses and the locked rooms in her house," Clint nodded. "She's in the woods with a rifle, isn't she?"

"My wife is pregnant, Barton. It's makin' her a worrier. I made Bobbi promise she'd follow my lead. She's not going to shoot you."

Sighing, Clint put his hands on his hips and looked up at the sky. He'd been out for too long. "Month number twenty-eight."

"What?" Sam asked, obviously confused.

"That's how long I've been out of the game, twenty-eight months now." Out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw a dark gray streak weaving fast through the woods. When he tilted his head down, Lucky streaked by him, racing for the trees, obviously following her. She must have heard or scented Bobbi in the woods.

"GESA! NO!" he screamed. "Phil, call her off. It's safe." Clint sprinted for the trees, following Lucky who would find Gesa quicker. "Don't shoot, Morse!" he cried out. He could hear Sam running behind him, easily keeping up. Gesa's screech shattered the silence then a thud. If Clint had to guess, she was ramming the base of the tree where Bobbi sat. "Gesa, NO!" he screamed again, Phil echoing the words further away. 

Bobbi was dangling from a limb, scrambling to get a better grip, rifle slung over her shoulder. Clint didn't stop, he tackled Gesa who was leaping and snapping, trying – and barely failing – to reach Bobbi's boots. Thankfully it was too crowded with trees for her to fly.

"What is that?" Sam yelled.

"She's my gryphon, Wilson," Phil said, panting but steady, gun drawn on Sam. "If you hurt her, there'll be hell to pay." Lucky stood at the base of the tree, watching Bobbi, growling.

"Stand down, all of you," Clint said, petting Gesa. She wrapped her body around him, glaring between Sam and Bobbi. "Lucky, down." 

Phil didn't lower his gun. "Coulson?" Sam asked, looking between Clint and Phil. "How long…"

"Phil, they needed to make sure I wasn't working for HYDRA. Sam wouldn't have shot me. Sam, you've obviously figured out this is Commander Coulson. He's alive and has been here for months. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but I didn't trust you either.

"Bobbi, please put the gun away, you're upsetting Gesa. Phil, you too."

"Hawkeye," she said, lowering herself from the tree, keeping a wary eye on Lucky. She took the rifle apart and stowed it in the backpack she wore. "There's a lot of birds around here." Phil snickered but Clint didn't quite get it.

"Come inside," Clint said. "Please."

 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sam asked, pacing around their small kitchen. 

"You all but called him a traitor the day we talked about it, Sam! He had amnesia. He didn't even know his last name. HYDRA had him for _months_. Do you know how many terrible things I've seen done in the name of justice? I wasn't going to let anyone sacrifice Phil."

It took half the afternoon to get the stories all told and hurt emotions sorted. "Fury has been searching for months, Coulson," Sam admitted. "They found Garrett," Phil shuddered when Sam said that name, "and he finally admitted they left you in these mountains."

"How are May, Hill and Sitwell?"

"Good. A little beat up when the war ended but all healed now. Holed up in varying towns according to Fury, mostly they're serving as resting spots or safe houses for the remains of SHIELD."

"Bronson and Pierce?" Clint asked.

"Pierce is alive, that's all Fury would say. No sign of Bronson since days before the end of the war."

"I need to see Nick," Phil admitted. 

"No," Clint argued. 

Sam looked between them for a long time. "I can get him a message, ask him to come here."

"No," Clint repeated.

"It's a good compromise," Phil disagreed. "If Hill, May and Sitwell are staying in different towns, we can do the same thing here. Be a safe place to rest, provide training or food or whatever is needed for SHIELD. I promised you, Clint, I'm not going back. I can't."

Only then did Clint relax, hearing Phil say those words in front of others. "Fine. Send word to Fury. He can come here. Tell him that if he harms any of my animals, I'll kill him."

"Yeah," Sam scratched his head, glancing at Gesa. "I'll tell him that in person."


	6. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Because I couldn’t resist writing Sam and Nick's conversation and Clint wouldn't be there to hear it.)

"Is he on his way?" Jess asked, leaning back to rest against Sam's chest.

"Yeah, he is. Should be here in a couple days."

"Did you tell him about Coulson?"

"Sort of," Sam said, "my message said I located his eye."

"Located, not found," Jessica pointed out. 

"Yep, technically Barton found him. Jess, what do I tell Fury before he goes up there?"

"I think it depends on what he says when he arrives," she folded her legs and turned sideways to look at him. "If he comes here expecting to pick up Coulson and leave, I think it best you forewarn him."

"Wonderful. How do I word that? Sorry General, but your Commander is too into Barton's dick to follow you out of town?"

"Sam!" Jessica lightly slapped his shoulder. "I'm sure you can word that a little more delicate."

"It's the god-honest truth," Sam said.

"Yes, yes it is. Does Fury know about Coulson's… preferences?"

"How the hell do I know? Fury only trusts me because Steve trusted me."

"Well I trust you because you're a good man and SHIELD is lucky to have you," Jessica kissed his chin.

"Thanks, Jess."

~*~

"Wilson, it's good to see you again."

"General," Sam replied, shaking Fury's hand, "thank you for coming so quickly."

"You said the magic words. Where's Coulson?" Fury looked around like he expected Coulson to pop out from under the table.

"He's not here," Sam said. He handed Fury coffee to slow him down a little, and to buy himself some time.

"Well, where then? I need to see him to make sure he's good."

"About that," Sam started again.

"About _what_? He's not dead, is he?"

"He's alive, and mostly healed. I talked to him myself a couple weeks ago."

"Why are you stalling, Wilson?"

"You know I met him a couple times, before the war ended, right? Well, he's not quite the same now, General. They captured him and tortured him for months, according to Coulson. He's… well, different than I remember. Less SHIELD's Commander and more just… Phil."

"He'll bounce back. I've already got work lined up for him." Coffee done, Fury set in in the basin to wash.

"General, sir, may I make a suggestion?"

"Spit it out, Wilson. I can see you're trying to get me to rethink _something_ about Coulson. What's changed?"

"I'm not sure he'll come back in the same capacity. HYDRA broke something in him and Coulson's put a lot of himself back together, but he said he wouldn't leave the farm. Like I said, he's changed from what I remember."

"The farm. Who's farm?"

"Clint Barton's."

"Barton? Wait, you mean Hawkeye? Coulson has been shacked up with Hawkeye for the past few months?"

"They seem very close," Sam offered.

Fury laughed, shaking his head. "I bet. It's got to be a dream come true for Coulson. Barton is just his type." He eyed Sam and Sam had no idea how he did it that with just one eye. "Anything else?"

"There's a gryphon?" Sam said, wondering if that wouldn't surprise Fury either.

"Be serious, Wilson."

"Oh, I am. It tried to eat Mockingbird."

"Which one's bonded to it?"

Sam hesitated then, "I don't know? Coulson said it was his bird but the thing followed Barton around like a puppy."

"Huh. Well that is definitely unexpected. Thanks for the warning, Wilson."


	7. Part Three

Clint feared very little in this world. The way he'd been raised had taught him that no one would look out for him better than himself. Every relationship he'd been in had proven that in varying ways. Until now. And he _hated_ that he feared Nick Fury's arrival. 

Phil had a choice to live his life the way he thought best. Clint told him that he wanted Phil to stay, that he would always make room in his life for him and Phil seemed as though he wanted the same thing. But priorities changed all the time and Phil belonged to SHIELD before he belonged here, on Clint's farm. No amount of touches or kisses could reassure Clint – nothing but Fury leaving alone would do that.

So he kept his fear hidden. 

Lucky belonged to him, for all that the dog followed Gesa around, panting after her. She tolerated it. At least he and Phil weren't that bad. Or so Clint hoped. He'd think about Lucky every time he turned to look for Phil and thinking about Lucky would stop him from going to find Phil. He'd started encouraging Gesa to go to Phil for attention though; she was bonded to him after all, not Clint.

Phil had stopped asking what was wrong a few days ago. Like Clint, he seemed to be hoarding touches. A hand on the other's arm, hugs for no reasons, kisses when they saw each other again, intertwined legs during dinner. 

"Clint Barton!" 

Gesa's head popped up, Lucky grumbling as she dislodged him. Stumbling out of bed, Clint dressed fast, whistling for Lucky to get up and follow him out of the barn. Phil dressed silently as well. "I know that voice," he whispered.

He still grabbed the nearest bow and quiver. "Let me make sure he's alone first." Clint and Lucky exited the barn, locking the door behind him to prevent Gesa from 'helping,' walking toward the gate. 

"You need a bell, Hawkeye, so old men like me don't have to scream their lungs out."

He motioned for Lucky to range out and come around from behind. "Pretty sure you're ageless, sir, not old." He held his bow and one arrow in his hand.

"I come in peace," Fury said, both hands in the air. "And alone. I've got no one in the trees with a rifle."

"Good to know," Clint said, holding out one hand. They shook hands and both stepped back as Clint unlocked the gate for him.

"I hear you found my Commander," Fury said, "and nursed him back to health. I need to thank you for that."

"You're welcome, sir."

"Call me Nick, Barton. Phil will."

Clint nodded in agreement. He whistled for Lucky who trotted up to them, sniffing Nick's hands for treats. They went into the barn together, Nick coughing at the strong scent of animal. Phil scurried down the ladder from the loft, holding out a hand. "Damn Nick, it's good to see you."

"You too, Phil," he yanked Phil against his chest, slapping him gently on the back once. "Where's your girl?"

"Girl?" Phil blinked in total confusion. Clint was sure he'd believe it if he didn't know Phil so well.

"Your gryphon, Coulson."

Gesa stuck her head over the stall door, chirping at Clint. "Come here, birdy," he said and she jumped onto the stall ledge, posing for Fury for a moment, before jumping down to circle around Clint.

"Well I'll be damned, Wilson told the truth. I couldn't believe it." He glanced at Phil, "You bonded her?"

"She's ours," Phil said, nodding toward Clint without answering directly. 

Nick glanced between them, noting Phil's stubborn face (Clint knew that expression well) and probably could see how tense Clint was himself. He nodded to himself. "I’m not going to ask you to leave, Coulson. I think you both need to hear that first?"

"I wasn't planning on leaving either way," Phil said, sticking his hands into pockets. "But now that that's out of the way, how about breakfast, Nick?"

"I'd love some," Fury rubbed his belly. Clint cooked while Phil made them coffee. "Tell me what you can," he said afterwards without indicating he wanted to have the conversation sans Clint.

Clint sat on the edge of the counter while Phil and Nick sat at the table. He had chores to do but he wasn't comfortable leaving Phil alone with Fury – not yet. Gesa and Lucky wrestled in the open center of the barn; she picked up on their nerves unfortunately. 

Phil told Fury in detail everything he remembered. Which was more than Clint knew he'd remembered. Then he told Fury that yes, he'd given up every base he knew of while they killed Shane in front of him.

"I'm going to suggest you test your other officers," Phil said, words shaky. "There wasn't a defense I knew that worked against that."

"I will," Fury said, "I promise. Did you know prior that you could bond?"

Phil touched the scar on his arm, nodded once and glanced at Fury's eye patch.

"That damn animal that bit you – that's why you went to it and thought you could help it?" Fury asked.

"Yeah," Phil admitted. "I could feel its pain and terror. It was all I could feel for a minute. I couldn't help trying to free it from that trap. It almost killed both of us."

"It was a long time ago," Fury said. "Before I knew much about bonding. I should have put that together. And this young lady? Gesa, is it? How'd she come about?"

Phil looked away then, unable to answer. 

"HYDRA must have figured it worked so well with him when he was a prisoner," Clint nodded his head toward Phil, "that they wanted another gryphon in their care to try it again. She came to us when twelve HYDRA soldiers raided the nest and killed her parents."

"She could sense you that far away?"

"I think so, yes," Phil answered. "I didn't know what was going on at the time but the nightmares were terrible."

"I believe it can be felt up to a mile. It would be easy enough for them to detain bonding-capable animals and drag it to a town center. That's how the circus did it." Well, sans the torture and murder bits but it was still awful.

Phil looked at Clint, startled. Woops, Clint hadn't told him about that yet. "Told you I hated my time with the circus," Clint muttered. He'd gotten away from Carson's the moment he looked old enough to join a merc team. And spent a lot of his downtime hunting the crueler circus masters those early years.

"I'm not fond of the idea of accidently activating a bond," Fury said, "for all that the idea of gryphons serving SHIELD is interesting. Can she sense if a human is capable? She's already bonded to you and safe here. What if I send Hill, May and Sitwell here at some point to check?"

"And if they are capable?" Clint asked.

"Then we keep them away, or devise a way to cancel it out, or teach them defenses against it. I don't know yet."

"So you're not going to use that for SHIELD?"

"Not without their express permission," Fury said, staring at Clint. "Humans _volunteer_ for this. SHIELD is a rebellion. It's dangerous. These bonds sound involuntary. I won't enslave animals to our cause."

Phil turned to look at Clint, who nodded. "Then yes, send any of them and we'll test it out."

Fury finished another cup of coffee, thinking silently. "I want to give you the same option I gave Hill, May and Sitwell."

"A safe place to hide, rest, and train?" Phil asked.

When Fury nodded in agreement, Phil asked him to outline his ideas.

"I'll let you know," Phil said.

"What?" Fury asked, obviously surprised.

"This isn't my farm, Nick. I live here but I don't own _any_ of this. Everything belongs to Clint. I've never owned a home, all my worldly possessions were at SHIELD headquarters, and any money I had in the bank will be tied up until I'm proven dead or announce myself as alive. I'm not sure I should take that chance considering HYDRA won."

"I know a guy," Fury said, "who will be willing to help with your money. He lost a lot when we lost the war. He's got ways to get access."

"Then do it," Phil said. "Take half for SHIELD and send the rest to me."

"You sure?" Fury asked. "You were an officer for a long time and rarely spent any money. Half to SHIELD would be a lot."

"Take it," Phil said, holding out his hand to seal his pledge. "Give it to the families left behind for all I care."

"You can't carry that blame, Phil," Fury said, starting to reach out but pulling his hand back.

"I gave up the bases, Nick. I _remember_ doing it." The guilt was obviously eating at Phil.

"But you didn't know all of them," Fury said, voice soft. "This isn't on you."

"Then who?"

Fury opened and closed his mouth. "I have some idea but I need to prove it first. Let me say this, Phil; there's a difference between being tortured and being a traitor. I would never hold you responsible for being tortured."

Phil took a deep breath, sitting up a little straighter. "I still feel guilty about it."

"That's because you're not a traitor," Fury said, nodding once. He seemed more relaxed now that he talked to Phil as well. "I'll head back to Wilson's place," Fury announced, standing up. "I believe a farmer's work is never done and I've kept you all morning," he said to Clint. "You two talk about it."

"I'll come down tomorrow," Clint promised.

"Phil, even if this is the last time I see you, it's _good_ to see you. As much as I want you by my side again, you do what you need to do, alright? You gave enough."

"Gave up enough too," Phil said.

Fury shook his head, "That's not on you. That's on HYDRA."

"I've missed you, Nick," Phil drew him into another hug. 

Fury shrugged it off, embarrassed, "You're my best friend. I wish I could have found you sooner."

~*~

As Fury had assumed, chores needed done daily, Clint went to work; Phil escorted Fury to the gate, Gesa slinking beside him, consenting to a quick ruffling of feathers before he left. 

"You could have said yes," Clint told him when Phil came back, holding the wheelbarrow steady while Clint shoveled. 

"Yeah, I know you would have accepted that, but I told Nick the truth. I don't own any of this. It's not my home I'm putting at risk."

"Yes it is," Clint said without looking up. Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, Clint saw Phil smile. 

"That's not what I meant. Okay, it's my home too, but all this belonged to you first – it still does. It's your possessions we're putting in danger if caught. _Your_ life."

"I did that the day I took in a tortured SHIELD officer," Clint disagreed.

"That was temporary," Phil said. "Before we decided… before we wanted a life together. It's not so temporary now. It's not my call to make alone anymore. Nick needed to know that as well. I prefer to know you want this too, Clint."

"Then I promise to consider all of it and we'll discuss it later."

~*~

A very small, very selfish part of Clint wanted to tell Fury to take a hike and never return. He hadn't joined SHIELD for a reason during the war. But Phil trusted him to do the right thing and part of Clint _wanted_ to do the right thing; to help the rebellion. 

They'd talked into the night about how to build a small house that doubled as a set of barracks for trainees. To hire men Sam trusted to create an underground hidden room below it to hide if necessary. Anyone passing through could potentially learn about Gesa – they were endangering her – but Clint and Phil couldn't use that as the only excuse to say no. They weren't going to battle; she was as safe as they could get her. Phil wanted to give any money he got back for the barracks. The rest would go to Clint to help with his normal expenses. 

They'd sealed it with a kiss. And a little more. Clint couldn't hide his grin at that memory. He _loved_ Phil. Clint wasn't afraid anymore to admit that to himself. Pretty soon he'd admit it to Phil as well.

Best of all, Phil hadn't broken his word. The first person in a long time to do that. Clint walked easy into town, sneaking into Wilson's barn to meet with Fury and pass along their acceptance of the plan.

Fury relaxed then, as if a burden lifted from him. "Thank you, Barton. We appreciate your help."

"You're welcome, Sir." They worked out a few more details, Fury asked about code words and telling him what SHIELD soldiers would say when they arrived at the farm. All precautions that made Clint feel better each moment, knowing Fury wanted Phil and Gesa safe.

"I think that's everything," he finally said, holding out his hand for Clint to shake. "Well, except for one thing," Fury smiled at him.

"What's that?" Clint asked, half expecting Fury to threaten him if he ever hurt Phil.

"Welcome to SHIELD, Hawkeye."


End file.
